


Someone Old, No One New

by pansexualnotmansexual



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: HP: EWE, M/M, Post-Hogwarts, University
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-04
Updated: 2016-02-16
Packaged: 2018-05-04 23:25:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 21
Words: 32,643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5352299
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pansexualnotmansexual/pseuds/pansexualnotmansexual
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fed up with the stress of being a hero in the wizarding world, Harry Potter decides to attend a muggle university. However, on his first day, he runs into none other than Draco Malfoy. (AN*: I live in the US, so my knowledge about British universities is limited; also submitted on fanfiction.net); </p><p>Attention!: I finally am at the right place mentally, financially, and ability-wise to re-do this fic. I recognize that it is not the best and that it could use a lot of work. I finally have a BETA reader/editor, so I'm hoping that the next one will be great! Consider the next fic, which I will hopefully be posting within a week under a new name, to be a stand-alone and not really connected to this one, except for some plot similarities and perhaps similar conversations. Thank you all for reading, and I hope you enjoy the next fic!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1 TW/CW: therapy m, food m

     Harry was pretty excited. For the past year, he had lived with Andromeda Tonks and her grandchild, Teddy Lupin-- Harry’s godson. Of course, after the constant surge of cameras and wizarding press had died down, he decided to lie low.  
Around late July of 1998, Harry moved in with Andromeda and began to assist in caring for Teddy. It was strange, as Andromeda has insisted on only speaking French around the infant so that he would grow up to be bilingual (a Black family tradition). As such, his only company until September was Andromeda, Teddy, Hermione and her family, the Weasleys, Neville, Dean, and Seamus.  
      On September 1st, Professor McGonagall announced that Hogwarts would be remodeled in the following year, but (unfortunately) the next year would hold 3 different sets of 1st years (those from last year, those currently, and those for next year). Thus, Harry was required to design speeches, partake in interviews, stage fancy dinners, and pose for photo-ops.  
      It was all very stressful. So, yes: Harry was anticipating a new term at the University of Manchester. He had decided to go to university because it was what he wanted—which was strange for Harry. Hermione was excited due to the fact that she was attending Oxford for chemistry. “We need more girls in the STEM fields,” she had said. Ron was working to be an auror. Neville decided to study Herbology so that he could help Madam Sprout teach—a shock to everyone. For a while, Harry’d felt that everyone had their futures and careers planned out—everyone except for him. Andromeda warned him that he arguably had had the most stressful circumstances and so he needed rest time.  
Rest was exactly what he did. He learned conversational French from Andromeda, spoiled Teddy, read muggle books, played Quidditch, and attended (wizard) therapy on a weekly basis. Attending a muggle uni was only the cherry-on-top for tabloids such as the Daily Prophet and Witch Weekly. Harry did not care: it was time for him to be selfish.

     On his first day, Harry woke up early and promptly gathered all of his supplies. He could never think of another time he’d been this prepared as he thought, “Blimey, Hermione’d be proud.”  
      He fixed breakfast for himself and Andromeda and bottlefed Teddy. It was only eggs, coffee, and baby formula, but Andromeda had made a point of offering positive affirmations to Harry.  
      “Merci, Harry. You didn’t have to do this. Really though, I appreciate it. I hope you have a wonderful first day, but don’t work yourself too much!” she yelled after him as he left.  
      His journey to the University of Manchester was an uneventful one. He apparated to Muggle Manchester and took the public transit from there. Using muggle transportation was always easiest for him because it meant no Rita Skeeter nor any of the other hundreds of buzzing wizard reporters.  
      As Harry wandered onto the uni’s campus, he observed his surroundings and thought back on his life. Was this really where he wanted to end up: not as an auror or Quidditch star, but rather a muggle student? Yes, he decided.  
Harry drew a breath. His life was finally going to start. No more ghosts and no more worries (his therapist would be proud, he thought). He exhaled, looked down, and began to walk.  
      Bam! “Hey! Watch it, mate,” spoke a stranger.  
      Of course, he had slammed into someone and sent both of their belongings tumbling to the ground. They simultaneously bent down to pick everything up when they bumped heads.  
      “I am so so-“ Harry stopped midsentence when he and the stranger locked eyes. His jaw dropped.  
      Harry had attended a muggle university in hopes of not running into anyone from the wizarding world, but lo and behold, there stood none-other-than Draco Malfoy.  
      “Wh-why are you here?” Harry sputtered.  
      “I suppose I could ask you the same,” Malfoy attempted with a sneer, but it did not work. The blond had lost a considerable amount of weight, his eyes were bloodshot and had deep bags underneath, and his skin was as grey as it was in sixth year.  
      Harry shuddered, “Er-okay. I’ll just…be off then..” He turned and strutted away.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2 TW/CW: probation m, jail implications, food m, cigarettes, swearing, ableist slurs  
Throughout his first class, Intro to Psych, Harry wondered why on Earth Malfoy would be at a muggle university. He was a Death Eater, wasn’t he? He hated muggles!  
Harry ended up figuring that Draco was going to a muggle uni because he wanted to mend his family’s name. Harry had attended the trials of all three of the Malfoys. He only testified for Narcissa and Draco. He knew that Lucius Malfoy had been sentenced to thirty years in Azkaban and had the Malfoy Manor seized. Narcissa was fined millions of galleons and was exiled. Draco was placed on probation, but Harry did not know those specifics. Thus, in the end, Draco Malfoy was the only person who could revive his family’s honor.  
When class had finished, Harry realized that he spent an hour thinking about Malfoy’s situation instead of what the professor was saying. “Oh well,” he thought, “the PowerPoints are on the professor’s websites.”  
He walked to the Starbucks on the east side of campus and ordered a white chocolate mocha, Ginny’s favorite. “She’d be proud,” he thought bittersweetly.  
Ginny and Harry had tried to work it out after the war, but neither of them were really into it. Things had just changed too much. Harry’s therapist said that that was fine and that he needed to work on himself first.  
“Harry? White chocolate mocha,” the barista called, knocking Harry out of his own head.  
His therapist claimed that thinking too much was dangerous, but Harry couldn’t see it. “Hermione would not be proud,” he thought.  
He grabbed his coffee and walked outside to smoke a cigarette. It was a nasty habit that he’d picked up from Andromeda. Was it stupid? Yes, but sometimes stress makes a person do stupid things. They smoked outside in order to keep Teddy safe, of course. Stupid does not equate to selfish.  
After he finished, he walked to his next class, English 101. It seemed a little bit silly, he figured, going to English class when you speak the language. But this would be an easy A.  
He sat down in the middle of class, not wanting to draw attention to himself. He began to take out a notebook, pen, and laptop, but then he saw it: a white-blond head.  
“No, no, no. It’s not possible,” Harry silently pleaded, “The same uni is enough, but the same class? Bloody hell. Shit. Fu-“  
“I will now take roll,” announced the professor, an old man with a hoarse voice and vivid sweat stains.  
Class droned on and on as Professor Wilkins lectured on the newfound responsibility of adulthood and university-life, and how his class on contemporary British literature may as well be the most important course of English at all of the University of Manchester, or even the most important course of all time.  
Yet, Harry was not paying attention to that. He was observing the rapidness with which Malfoy took his color-coded notes and how he watched the professor like a hawk, as if attempting to absorb everything the man was saying. What struck Harry as the most peculiar detail was how Malfoy’s head snapped back when Harry answered, “Here” on roll call, and how, afterwards, his head and shoulders sunk down like he was trying to disappear.  
“As it is 1:30 PM, class is dismissed,” Professor Wilkins declared.  
Harry sped out of the classroom in an attempt to catch up with Malfoy.  
“M-Malfoy! Wait!”  
Malfoy exhaled, halted, and turned around. He waited for Harry to approach him, clearly not wanting to cause a scene.  
“Listen, Potter. I don’t know why you’re here nor what you wanted,” Malfoy whisper-screamed, “as you have the whole of the wizarding world in your pocket-“  
“Wh-what?”  
“But I will make you a deal: if you ignore me, I’ll ignore you. All right?”  
“Yes?” Harry responded in a questioning tone.  
“Grand.” And with that, Malfoy walked off.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3 TW/CW death m, parents m, food, nightmares m, therapists

The rest of Harry’s day was uneventful. He had Criminal Justice 101, which he only took because he did not know what to take. He had chosen his classes almost at random.  
On Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays, he had Intro to Psych from 9AM-10AM, English 101 from 12PM-1:30PM, and Criminal Justice from 3PM-4:20PM. On Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays, he would have Algebra 101 from 10:30AM-12PM, Earth Science 101 from 2PM-3PM, and World History 111 from 3:30PM-5PM. On Saturdays, he had French Aa from 6PM-7PM.  
When he got home just a few minutes shy of 5, Andromeda had begun cooking dinner,  
“Andromeda, you didn’t have to do that.”  
“Je sais, mais je voudrais te voire manger plus de la nourriture [I know, but I would like to see you eat more food.],” she replied.  
“Andromeda! Non, je mange assez. [No, I eat enough.]”  
“Teddy has been asking for you, tout le jour. [all day.]”  
“Oui? [Yes?]”  
“Oui, je pense qu’il [Yes, I think that he] missed you.”  
“Je vais le voire. [I’m going to see him.]” Harry walked over to the playpen where Teddy was stationed. He picked the infant up.  
“Bonjour, [Hello,] Teddy! Comment ça va? [How are you?]”  
“‘Arry!” the young child squealed and changed his skin color to match that of Harry. After deciding that his complexion was dark enough, Teddy morphed a tiny lightning bolt scar on the center of his forehead.  
Harry gasped and had to will himself to gently place the young metamorphmagus down. He tried to steady his breathing, but to no avail.  
“Andromeda!” he screamed before falling into a full-fledged panic attack.  
“Harry! Are you okay?” She burst out of the kitchen and into the living room.  
“H-he!” Harry pointed to the young child’s forehead as he began to hyperventilate and cry.  
“Th-the scar!”  
“It’s okay, Harry. It’s okay. In through the nose, count to four, out through the mouth.”  
Andromeda moved them to the couch and began to offer Harry solace, “He was just trying to look like you, Harry. He doesn’t reali-”  
“Th-they’re dead!”  
“Who is dead?”  
“My parents! His parents! Ev-everyone! And it’s all my fau-”  
“It is not your fault. It is Voldemort’s fault. He killed all those people. He left so many as orphans or childless or brotherless. I don’t blame you, and neither would Remus nor Nym-Tonks,” She broke off as the fire alarm sounded. “Oh, merde!” 

Andromeda handed Harry two slices of pizza and some breadsticks, got herself the same, and gave Teddy a fruit cup and milk.  
“I-I’m sorry, Andromeda. I didn’t want you to b-”  
“Harry, tout est bien. It’s fine.”  
“No. I just. I feel so weak...breaking down like that.”  
“Harry James Potter,” Andromeda started, placing her pizza slice on her plate and forcing eye contact between them, “you are anything but weak.”  
“‘Awwy!” Teddy squealed.  
“Oui, [Yes,] lil’ one?”  
“Où tu es? [Where are you?]”  
“Où? Ici! [Where? Here!]”  
“Non! Aujourd'hui! [No! Today!]”  
“Oh!”  
Andromeda interrupted, “Mon amour, Harry a l'école maintenant. Il va à l’université pour apprendre. [My love, Harry has school now. He goes to the university in order to learn.]”  
“Pourquoi? [Why?]” Teddy asked.  
“Parce que! [Because!]” replied Andromeda, tickling Teddy. She turned her attention to Harry, “So, how was school today? See anyone you know?”  
“It was fine. I just...I saw Draco Malfoy.”  
“Hmm?” her eyebrows went up and she leaned forward, as if she had suddenly gone deaf.  
“Draco Malfoy.”  
“Narcissa’s son?”  
“Yes,” Harry replied. It wasn’t as if “Draco” was a common name.  
“Oh!” he realized, “she’s your-”  
“sister. He is my nephew,” she sighed and became interested in her dinner plate. “Perhaps I should write to her.”  
“Because of Ma-Draco?”  
“Because I miss my sister.”

“Harry, it is perfectly normal to have freaked out,” his therapist assured him, “What concerns me is that our breathing exercises didn’t seem to help. Why do you think that is?”  
“Well, I dunno. I think I was just overwhelmed and..and scared.”  
“How has your sleeping been lately, any nightmares?”  
“No,” Harry lied. “The melatonin helped with those some.”  
“Hmm,” she made a noise as if she didn’t believe him. “Okay. We have been working together for over a year. I believe that it is time for us to discuss you.”  
“Me? Haven’t we always discussed me?”  
“No, I mean you. Your ambitions, hopes, personality.”  
“I’m...confused.”  
“What do you like to do, Harry? Who are you? You don’t have to be the Boy Who Lived anymore. Have you thought about your hobbies? Interests? Sexuality? Short-term goals? These are all very important to your identity.”  
“Oh..I guess I haven’t. I’ve never thought about identity being important.”  
“Harry, it is crucial to your health and happiness.”


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4 TW/CW food, misogyny (possible?), past romance m

The rest of Harry’s day seemed to fly by.While his algebra course worried him, he found that he could breeze through Earth Science and still receive high marks. As for World History, how difficult could muggle history be?

  
His classroom appalled him. It was set up in one of the university’s lecture halls and had over 100 students in it already. He showed up five minutes early and was lucky to have gotten a seat on the eleventh row.

  
The professor had just turned the overhead projector on when a blond boy ran into class and took the seat right next to Harry.  
Draco Malfoy turned his head to his left, spotted Harry, and muttered, “Oh, Merlin.”

  
Harry looked away as Malfoy sighed. Two classes? This was ridiculous.

  
“Attention, class. I will now begin to read off of our syllabus. Our semester will cover World History 111, which means that our studies are roughly the beginning of mankind to the Industrial Revolution…”

  
When class had finally ended, Harry was anticipating the next semester. Malfoy had looked at him a total of two times in the entire ninety minutes. Which, of course, Harry wasn’t particularly wanting Malfoy to look at him, but how could he just ignore Harry’s existence?

 

Harry arrived home with salads and spaghetti plates from Olive Garden.

  
“I know you’re French, Andromeda, but I was really craving Italian.”

  
Andromeda smiled, “ _Un_ , [One,] Ted i-was Italian. I can speak the language. So could Tonks. _Deux,_ [Two,] Olive Garden is American with garlic.”

  
“But the breadsticks are amazing!” Harry exclaimed.

  
While they ate, Andromeda explained that she had written to her sister and was awaiting a reply. However, she was not expecting one: she and Narcissa had not spoken for nearly two decades.

  
After dinner, Harry retreated to his room. What were his interests? He liked Quidditch, yes. But what else did he like? Teddy. Cooking. Cleaning.

  
“Oh, God,” he thought, “That doesn’t sound manly. Then again, there’s not anything wrong with being girly…”

  
Harry rubbed his face. Arts? No. Music? Merlin, no.

  
What about hobbies? The last Harry could truly remember having free time was third year, and that was six years ago.

  
Sexuality? He dated Cho and Ginny, didn’t he? He wasn’t gay. But still…

  
He moved the thought from his head and considered his short-term goals: pass all of his classes and buy some amazing Christmas presents for everyone. He made a list of what he wanted to buy and roughly how much all of it would cost. Early planner? One could say that.

 

The rest of Harry’s week went fine. He and Andromeda were on an all time high because Teddy had said his first major sentence. In French, of course.

  
“ _Pourquoi Harry et tu parlez différent, mamie?_ [Why do Harry and you speak different, grandma?]”

  
The only thing that Harry was dreading was his therapist appointment. He decided that he would tell his therapist about his persistent insomnia and nightmares.

  
Before school on Tuesday, Harry went to his counselling centre. He sat in the waiting room, but his therapist came through almost immediately.

  
“Hey, why don’t you come on back and we can go ahead and start?” she cheerfully asked, “How was your week?”

  
“It was great! Teddy’s speaking skills are advancing!”

  
“Wonderful! Anything you’d like to share before we continue our conversation from last week?”

  
“Um...yes…” Harry spoke in depth of his sleeping problems for about thirty minutes.

  
“Harry,” his therapist began, “I think that it is time for me to confirm our previous diagnosis of your PTSD. Perhaps it would pay off if you attended bimonthly meetings for post-traumatic stress disorder, along with attending your weekly therapy sessions. If your sleeping problems persist, then we can talk about medication.”

  
“That’s fine.”

  
“Have you thought at all about what we talked about last week?”

  
“Oh yeah. It was weird to think about myself like that.”

  
“How so?”

  
“Like a friend, almost.”

  
Dr. Shelly smiled. She stood up and walked over to her bookshelf where her activities for her patients were located.

  
“Harry,” she said, handing him four sheets of paper, “I want you to work on these. The first one has two columns; I want you to write down whatever activities you do throughout the day and how those make you feel. The second is just a goal determiner, and the third one is a make-your-own-pie-graph for priorities. What’s most important right now? School, relationships, religion, exercise? The fourth one is called the Gingerbread Man. It shows gender and sexuality as a spectrum. Think you can handle your homework?”

  
“Of course. Thank you so much.”

  
“Thank you! And enjoy your day.”

 

Harry thought about his homework: a book to read for English, a paper for World History, a test to study for in Algebra, and several worksheets for therapy. All were due next week.

  
Nevertheless, Harry decided to allocate his time to Andromeda and Teddy when he got home. He started by cooking chicken alfredo and fruit salad. After dinner, Andromeda and Harry sat outside drinking coffee, smoking cigarettes, and watching Teddy play.

  
They were about to go inside when Andromeda’s owl arrived with two letters. One for Harry and one for Andromeda, respectively from Ginny and Narcissa.

  
Harry put Teddy to bed and opened his letter from Ginny.  
“Dear Harry,  
How have you been? I haven’t heard much from you in the past month. The Daily Prophet has reported that you’re going to a muggle university, but I don’t believe much of what they say. How is Teddy? And Andromeda?  
I have great news! The Harpies want me on their team. Can I share the details with you over lunch? I have so much to tell you about!  
Love Always,  
Ginny.”

Harry wrote back,  
“Ginny,  
I’ve been well-- considering what all has happened. I’ve sorry for not writing to you, but I have been busy. Yes, the rumors are true: I’m attending the University of Manchester.  
Teddy is great! Andromeda is worried because he’s been running, but I’m excited.  
I’d love to meet up for lunch. I would suggest a muggle restaurant, but I know that you know how to get around the wizarding world much better. How about the Three Broomsticks at 1:45?  
You too,  
Harry.”  
And with that, Harry fell asleep.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5 TW/CW cigarettes, food, biphobia (possibly?), therapists m, kissing m, pda m

Harry’s classes flew by the following day because, after isolating himself for so long, he was actually happy to see the wizarding world. When English was over at 1:30, he found a quiet tree and apparated to the Three Broomsticks. As he attempted to avoid the shocked looks and stares, Harry ordered his and Ginny’s meals. He was glad that they were still that close.

He waited outside and smoked, ignoring the occasional flash of a camera. He watched as a red-headed woman walked towards the restaurant.

“Harry!” Ginny said. Her eyes lit up as she grinned.

“Hey!” Harry replied, putting out his cigarette. “I already ordered our food.”

“Great.”

They walked to the table and started talking almost immediately. 

“So, the Harpies?” Harry asked with a smirk.

“Yes!” Ginny squealed, “I got a letter from them a week ago asking me to be a part of the team. I started the application right after that and turned it in a few days ago. I’m so nervous! How have you been?”

“I’m okay. My scar doesn’t hurt anymore, but headaches still scare me. My insomnia and nightmares are gradually getting easier to deal with…”

“That’s good. How’s university?”

“It’s great. I like it.”

“Anything on your mind?”

“Not in particular, yours?”

“I just keep thinking about Hogwarts,” she admitted, grimacing. “Repairs are going to cost a lot...and we lost so many lives. How could we ever find enough teachers? It’s all confidential but...I just can’t believe how much has changed.”

“My therapist says that it’s us that change, not our surroundings.”

“That’s a load of BS,” Ginny stated.

“Yeah,” Harry added with a smile.

“Speaking of which, how is therapy?”

Harry sighed. Sometimes therapy made sense, sometimes not.

“To tell you the truth,” Harry looked around and lowered his voice. “I don’t know. She gave me these  activities to do. Interests and hobbies and such…”

Ginny giggled a little bit.

“And get this,” continued Harry, “She told me that I need to start considering my  sexual orientation! How bizarre is that? I mean, I’ve dated girls; I’m obviously not gay.”

Ginny gritted her teeth.

“What?” Harry asked, confused.

“Um, it’s just that…” began Ginny. “I’m bisexual, so I don’t see how you can view things as so black and white.”

“Bi- what?” Harry tilted his head.

“Biromantic and bisexual. I am romantically and sexually attracted to the same gender and to other genders. Women, men, and nonbinary people.”

“Th-that can happen” stuttered Harry.

“Yeah! Also, it’s not ‘bizarre’ of her to ask you to consider it. Didn’t you only figure out that you’re asexual, like, last year?”

“Uh..oh. That makes sense.”

Ginny smiled. “So, yeah.”

“Wait, my therapist gave me a spectrum thingy. Why didn’t it have ‘bisexual’ on there?”

“What, does your therapist have a monopoly over the truth of human sexuality and gender?”

“I guess not.” Harry looked at his watch and saw that it read 2:45. “Merlin, look at the time! Gin, I have to go.”

“Oh, bye!” Ginny stood and made an effort to walk Harry to the door.

“By the way,” she added, leaning close to Harry and whispering in his ear, “I wanted to tell you that I’m seeing Luna.”

“Luna?” Harry asked, “Is she bi, too?”

“No, she’s pan.”

“What’s that?”

“It can be either attraction to all genders or attraction regardless of gender.”

“I’m confused.”

“It happens. Google it?”

“Okay,” Harry said. They hugged goodbye and apparated in different directions.

 

In Harry’s Criminal Justice course, he was not paying attention to the content, but rather searching all of Google about human sexuality. It was Ginny who helped him discover that he was asexual and it was Ginny who unknowingly (or knowingly?) would help him discover that he was biromantic. 

Harry had devised a mental checklist for himself:

Had he had crushes on girls? Yes.

Did he enjoy spending time with those girls? Yes.

Did he enjoy kissing said girls? Yes.

Had he had crushes on boys?

 

He thought back on his life, and just when he was about to answer “no” to the question, the image of him blushing when Bill winked at him rose. His eyes widened and more memories came up: the warmth he felt around Cedric, the attraction he felt to Victor Krum, even the times when he found boys handsome. “Not just handsome,” he thought. “ Handsome. ”

He sat for a few minutes after class was dismissed. Lost in his thoughts, he was only jarred when he heard the professor say, “And here are the answers for our next test.”


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6 TW/CW drowning m, kissing m, sex m, acephobia (possibly?), food, drugs m, death m, weapons m, masks m, panic attacks, war m, fathers m

Harry continued his week like normal, not sure what to do with his newfound knowledge. He’d be lying if he said that he hadn’t thought about it. He had. It confused him so much because didn’t people always know their sexualities? How could you like someone and not even know it? Harry didn’t want to admit it, but he was scared. He’d read books and watched movies and everyone in them swore that this sort of thing didn’t change a person. But Harry felt changed. He felt like he’d found a missing part of himself. He felt like he found a lifelong secret. He felt like he’d finally taken a breath of fresh air after almost drowning.  
Most importantly, he wanted to tell someone. Which meant that he defied all stereotypes. Weren’t you supposed to find out that you were gay or bi or pan or something when you’re five? And aren’t you supposed to be terrified of coming out?  
When did Ginny learn that she was bi? When did Luna learn that she was pan?  
Harry remembered when he found out that he was asexual. It was a few months after the war. He and Ginny had had many intense makeout sessions, and, yeah, he was into it. But when his shirt came off, he couldn’t do it. He apologized to Ginny because he must be broken, right? Don’t all people want sex? It was Ginny who told him that he wasn’t broken and that it was all right. It was Ginny who told him that, no, not all people want sex. Asexuals don’t experience sexual attraction. Demisexuals don’t unless a strong bond is formed. Grey-asexuals do, but only sometimes. And so on. (AN** I am allosexual so, if I have something wrong, please correct me and I will change it.)  
But it was nothing like this. How could something so similar be so different?  
Friday night, as soon as he got home, he got out his pen and paper (most of the wizarding world had abandoned quill and parchment after the war):  
“Dearest Ron and Hermione,  
I know that it has been a while since I have written, but I need to talk to you two. It’s very important. Could you show up for breakfast at 9? Teddy has wanted to see you both anyways. Thank you.  
With Love,  
Harry.”  
He sighed and sent the letter on its way. Would his therapist be proud? Probably. He retreated downstairs and awaited a reply.

Harry could not sleep. It was 4AM and nothing helped. Yes, he tried everything. Exercise. Warm milk. Violin music. Yoga. Melatonin. Breathing exercises. Grounding techniques. Dreamless sleep potions (Calm down, he only took one. He wasn’t going to get addicted.).  
Accepting that he wouldn’t be able to sleep, Harry decided to make a list of everything he wanted to get done before Ron and Hermione arrived, for he had gotten their letter after dinner the night before. He wrote, “Shower, tidy room, vacuum house, wash dishes, fix breakfast, bathe Teddy, fix coffee, do homework.”  
He couldn’t wait to tell Hermione about his new organization skills. She’d be proud of him.  
He spent the next three hours showering and drinking coffee and smoking and cleaning his room and doing his Algebra and French homework. Around seven, he decided to sit outside and watch the sun rise. He loved the peaceful environment of dawn, especially after an all-nighter.  
Twenty minutes later, he went back inside the house to wash dishes and vacuum (the beauty of magicked muggle appliances was that they could become silent). After that, he woke up Teddy for a bath. The toddler was not happy.  
Harry sat Teddy in his playpen and proceeded to make French toast and sausage. At 8:30, when there was nothing else to do, he sat down to work on his Earth Science essay.  
The door sounded at 8:55, and Andromeda welcomed Ron and Hermione in. Harry took a deep and shaky breath. She brought them into the kitchen and Harry set the table. Ron and Hermione embraced Harry with hugs.  
“I’ll be in the living room with Teddy,” said Andromeda. “I wouldn’t want to invade on your private conversations.”  
“Andromeda, no!” Harry spoke up. “You’re always welcome.”  
“It’s fine. You all catch up,” she affirmed.  
“Okay. I’ll set you some leftovers in the microwave.”  
“Thank you,” Andromeda said, walking out of the room.  
“Hey! How have you two been?” Harry cheerfully addressed the couple.  
“Ha-” Ron started.  
“Nevermind us,” interrupted Hermione. “Is everything okay? That letter worried us.”  
“I’m sorry. It’s...okay. I should have clarified in the letter that it’s nothing bad. I just...need to tell you something.”  
“Okay?” Hermione replied in a questioning tone.  
“Well, let’s sit down. We don’t want this food getting cold,” said Ron.  
“Oh, I agree. Have you tried muggle French toast before?”  
“Boys! You always have your minds on food,” Hermione chimed in.  
“Well…” Ron grinned and put his arm around her. She smiled as well.  
Harry took a deep breath,” As you both know, I’ve been seeing a therapist.”  
They nodded.  
“She has helped me a lot, and, recently, she’s been asking me to reflect on my life and myself and my...er...relationships.”  
Hermione’s eyes lit up and a small smile played at her lips.  
“Is this it, mate?” Ron asked.  
“Er-no. Th-there’s more to the story.”  
“He means is this the time wh— Oh, just continue,” Hermione said.  
Harry assessed his friends and inhaled. He counted to four and exhaled.  
“Well, I’ve given it a lot of thought and I have realized that I am biromantic and asexual,” he informed them.  
Ron and Hermione grinned.  
“I’m glad you finally told us, mate,” Ron said.  
“Finally? I only found out myself a week ago.”  
An alarmed look crossed Ron’s eyes.  
“You mean...you didn’t?” Hermione asked. Harry shook his head.  
“But we’ve always…” Ron admitted.  
“Always what?” Harry asked.  
“We always thought that you knew. I mean…we knew,” Hermione said.  
“You knew? I may have always been, but I never realized it. Since when have you guys known?”  
They looked at eachother for a second.  
“Fourth year?” Ron said, his eyebrows furrowed together.  
“Maybe fifth,” Hermione added.  
“And you’re just...okay with it?” Harry asked.  
“Well, of course, Harry,” Hermione answered, reassuringly.  
“I don’t see how I couldn’t be,” said Ron. “One, I’m not a bigot. Two, Charlie is aroace and Ginny is a bi trans girl. Excuse me, woman.”  
Hermione rolled her eyes. Harry smiled. Of course his best friends would accept him.  
They continued talking for the better part of an hour. Until, finally, at 10:15, Harry had to go. Ron and Hermione decided to stick around in order to play with Teddy.  
When Harry apparated to his university’s campus, he arrived right next to a theater group’s small presentation. They were supposed to be the four horsemen: black capes, masks, and scythes. If one didn’t know any better, they might assume that these were Death Eaters. So, Harry just walked on and ignored the pangs of nervous sweat that ran down his neck.  
As he walked past a small picnic area, he noticed a blond head of hair in a gazebo. He got closer and heard what he thought to be hyperventilation. Harry briefly argued with himself. Should he comfort Malfoy, or just walk on? It took roughly five seconds for Harry to decide.  
He paced over to the gazebo. Kneeling next to Malfoy, Harry whispered, “Are you okay?”  
Malfoy cut himself off mid-inhale, blinked, and sneered, “What do you want, Potter?”  
“To know if you’re okay,” Harry replied. Malfoy let out a shaky breath and shook his head.  
Harry sat down in a more comfortable position.  
“They look like Death Eaters to you, too, huh?” Harry asked, more so attempting to calm Malfoy down with small talk than expecting an answer.  
Malfoy nodded, then admitted, “The masks are the worst part.”  
“For me, it’s the cloaks. They strangely resemble dementors a bit with those.” Malfoy didn’t reply, so Harry continued, “Try inhaling through your nose, counting to four, and exhaling through your mouth.”  
Malfoy did as Harry said, and then asked, “How did you know that that would work?”  
Harry shrugged, “It’s what I do when I have a panic attack.”  
Malfoy bit his lip and nodded. They sat next to each other in silence for a while until Malfoy cleared his throat and asked, "Why are you being so nice to me, anyways?"  
Harry replied wearily, "I'm tired of fighting. Voldemort is dead, why prolong the war?" He paused when he noticed that Malfoy flinched when he said "Voldemort." Harry added, "You shouldn't be scared. He's not coming back, you know.  
Malfoy nodded and then snorted, " The Boy Who Lived comforts a former Death eater. What a sight."  
Harry nodded. He asked, "Why are you here, anyways? At a muggle uni-- I mean."  
"You-Know-Who is dead. Why prolong the war?" Malfoy replied.  
"That was great. I couldn't have said it better myself."  
"Forgive me, Potter, but are you joking with me?"  
"Better with you than at your expense, right?"  
"I agree. Our Hogwarts years are over and I'm tired." Suddenly, Harry announced, "Fuck."  
"Woah there, Potter. This is our first civil conversation, no need to get too comfortable too quick."  
"No. I just missed my Algebra class."  
"Algebra? I'm in Calculus."  
"You've always been smarter than me, no need to brag."  
"I meant that I could help you catch up, prat," Malfoy elaborated.  
"Oh. Is that the course that you should be in now?"  
"No, Spanish Ab."  
"Oh, I'd think that you'd take French."  
"Why? I'm fluent."  
"Oh yeah," Harry replied, remembering that Malfoy was technically a Black.  
"You act as if you know," Malfoy suspiciously said.  
"I live with Andromeda now. Your-- er-- aunt."  
"Andromeda? I thought that she had died in the war."  
"Nope. She takes care of Teddy Lupin. Tonks- her daughter- and Ted- her husband- and Remus- her son-in-law and our third year DADA teacher- all died. Teddy is her grandson and my godson."  
"Oh."  
"Andromeda has written Nar-your mother, though. I thought that you'd have known by now."  
Malfoy shook his head in negation, "No, my mother and I don't talk anymore."  
"Oh, well, what about your dad?"  
"Dear me, look at the time! Well, I can't be late for Political Science. We can chat later, Potter. Good bye!"  
"Most classes don't start for another thirty minutes, Malfoy."  
"Yes, but you now how traffic is," Malfoy claimed, walking off. Harry watched the blond as he moved towards the west side of campus. Sometimes he just could not understand Malfoy.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7 TW/CW cigarettes, food, drugs (possibly?), PTSD, child abuse, nightmares, violence  
Malfoy ended up sitting next to Harry in World History, but they didn’t talk at all. Harry pretended to be listening to the lecture, but he was really just paying attention to Malfoy. He was doing a lot of that recently.   
After class, the two boys walked out together. Harry lit up a cigarette.  
“Marlboro Reds,” Malfoy observed. “I smoke that kind, too. Mind if I bum one?”  
Harry didn’t mind, so they stood around smoking cigarettes together.  
“Do you have any more classes today?” Harry eventually asked.  
“I have Business 101 in five minutes and Introduction to Psychology at 6. You?”  
“French Aa at 6.”  
“Why French?”  
“Andromeda.”  
“Right,” said Malfoy, tossing the cigarette butt behind him. “Well, I’d better head to class.”  
“Wait,” Harry called as Malfoy began to walk away.  
“Hmm?” Malfoy questioned.  
Harry picked up the cigarette butt and handed it to Malfoy. “Don’t litter.”  
“Seriously?” Malfoy asked.  
“Seriously,” Harry replied, maintaining eye contact.   
“The Boy Who Lived: a chain-smoking, tree-hugging, Death Eater comforter?” Malfoy replied in a slightly amused, slightly confused tone.  
“That’s right,” Harry said, smirking.  
Malfoy shrugged, threw up his hands, and walked off.

Harry ate at McDonald’s that night for dinner and then apparated home at 8. When he got home, he began his homework and studies. He finished his take-home Intro to Psych test, read his assigned book for English and looked at its associated essay rubric, finished his essay for Earth Science, and looked at the Algebra PowerPoints. He decided that he would need Malfoy’s help. Seriously, who understands polynomial division?  
At 11 PM, Harry decided that he needed to sleep. He took 30mg of melatonin and lied down. As he drifted to sleep thirty minutes later, he could not believe how tired he was.   
Unfortunately, sleep was never a good friend to Harry. When he’d managed to achieve unconsciousness, nightmares darted his way. But instead of being crisp and clear Voldemort-related terrors, these were much worse. Harry’s world was muted and riddled by fog. He was back at the Dursleys, where he’d grown up, and they were trying to shove him into his cupboard—only he was too tall now and wouldn’t fit. And someone was screaming about how he smelled like cigarette smoke and how he burned lunch and then he was being smacked over the head with a wooden spoon and it was almost exactly like being a little kid again. Except it didn’t make any sense. Wait, oh God, unless he was back at the Dursleys, but that didn’t make any sense either beca-  
Harry woke up with a start in his sweat-drenched bed. Running his hand through his messy hair, Harry got up and promptly located the “List of Affirmations for Abuse Survivors” that his therapist gave him.  
He exhaled and began to read off the list:  
“1. It is not your fault.  
2\. You are not bad.  
3\. You are not dirty.  
4\. Your emotions are valid and normal.  
5\. You are safe.  
6\. No one can hurt you.  
7\. You did not and do not deserve mistreatment.  
8\. You are not responsible for what happened to you as a defenseless child.”  
He stopped there and folded the paper up. Then, he stepped outside to chain-smoke for a while. When he came back inside, he saw that the clock read 4:05 AM. He was grateful. Four hours of sleep was a lot for him. After he fixed a pot of coffee, he heard a whimpering sound from Teddy’s bedroom. Harry rushed in and picked the toddler up.   
“Hey, buddy. What’s wrong?” Harry asked.  
“Tummy hurts,” Teddy answered.  
“Aww,” Harry faked a pout and began to rock his godson back and forth in his arms. This kid had to have a better life than Harry. He refused to let the same mistakes happen—neither domestic nor political.   
In a few minutes, Teddy’s breaths became even and Harry placed him back down in his bed. Harry silently backed out of the bedroom and walked back to the kitchen. He drained a few cups of coffee and picked at some cereal, and then he took a shower. When he was done with everything, it was 5:30 AM.  
At that time, Harry decided to raid Ted’s old library for some books to read. He chose to settle on Fahrenheit 451. He stopped reading about an hour later and sat outside to smoke and watch the sunrise.   
Harry spent the rest of the day switching among spending time with Teddy and Andromeda, doing homework, reading, and sleeping. He was almost anticipating the day’s end because he had developed a strong nervous energy.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8 TW/CW food, alcohol m, alcoholism m, fathers m, cigarettes, body image m

           Like every Monday, Harry left the house at 8 AM so that he could get Starbucks and still be on time for his 9 AM Psych class.

           Yet, this Monday was going to be different. He knew because that’s what he’d promised himself. Starting today, Harry was going to pay attention and participate in class. Really, he would.

           In Psych, he took color-coded notes (something he’d learned from Malfoy) and made footnotes so that he could record what the teacher said. In English, he printed out the PowerPoints, took notes, and actually answered the professor’s questions. He supposed that reading the book actually did pay off.

           Reading, taking notes, and focusing in his classes were not what surprised Harry that day, no. Not even answering questions surprised Harry (after all, Hermione would be proud). What surprised Harry was that, after English class, Malfoy stopped Harry and asked the dark-skinned man to join him for lunch. What surprised Harry even more was that he responded, “Sure, I’ve been meaning to ask you for your help in Algebra. Where are we headed?”

           As they walked to the local café, Harry couldn’t help but wonder what his younger self would say if he told him that he’d had a lunch date, or rather an appointment, with Malfoy. Before they walked in the front door of the restaurant, Malfoy said, “Oh, shit.”

           “What?” Harry asked.

           “I think that this is actually a tavern—not a café. Do you still want to eat here?”

           “I don’t mind,” Harry replied.

           When he entered the “café,” Harry was automatically greeted with the smell of cigarettes and beer. He and Malfoy shared a semi-disgusted look.

           They sat down and Harry said, “This place reminds me of Knockturn Alley.”

           “You’ve been to Knockturn Alley?” Malfoy questioned.

           “Oh, yes. Once or twice. The first time was in second year—I believe—I accidentally turned up in the wrong chimney after using floo powder for the first time. It was a disaster!” Harry smiled in spite of his rambling, but couldn’t help himself from announcing, “Wait! I remember: you were in…somewhere…with your father. Borgin and Burkes, maybe?”

           Malfoy drew up his nose and asked, “Were you hiding in that cabinet-thing, per chance?”

           “Yes! I wanted to hide from you. Merlin, it seems silly now. Oh, and I remember that you thought your father was going to buy you a gift.”           

           “Yeah,” Malfoy said, suddenly very interested in his menu. He soon cleared his throat and asked, “Do you know what you’re going to order yet?”

           “I don’t know. I was considering a shot of brandy,” Harry joked. “You?”

           “Oh, I can’t. I’ve been a month sober.” Malfoy pulled an AA chip out of his wallet briefly, and then put it back.

           “Oh,” Harry said. He averted his eyes in disbelief. How could someone manage to bring up two touchy topics in five minutes?

           “Don’t feel too bad,” Malfoy said. “You didn’t hurt my feelings that much.”

           Malfoy looked up and Harry nodded.

           “Je crois que j’aie les mozzarella sticks, et toi? [I believe that I will have the mozzarella sticks, and you?]” Malfoy asked.

           Harry shook his head and laughed.

           “Did you understand any of that?”

           “A little bit.”

           “Which part?”

           “Mozzarella sticks,” Harry admitted, causing both men to laugh.

           They continued their lunch by nibbling mozzarella sticks, smoking, drinking water, and talking.

           “So, that is how you complete the square. Take the coefficient for the ‘x’ term, cut it in half, and square it,” Malfoy informed Harry. In twenty minutes, Malfoy had managed to sum up over four hours of Algebra.

           “It’s almost like math makes sense now,” added Harry.

           Malfoy crumpled up his nose and said, “Except for Calculus.”   

           “What are you learning now in Calc?”              

           “Implicit Differentiation,” Malfoy stated.

           “What’s that?”

           “I’m not sure.”

           They left the tavern laughing and, surprisingly, Harry’s week began to fly by.

    His days were rather routine up until Thursday. After World History, Harry stuck around the school library in hopes of completing his research paper on sub-saharan african trade in the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries. Why did he get such a difficult question when Malfoy was assigned the cultural and social factors of the Mongolian empire? Who knows. So, he stayed in the library until 8 PM. Finally, he left when he found only one book. He was lucky that most of the required sources could be from the Internet, at least.

    Arriving at the house, he called out, “Sorry that I’m so late, Andromeda.”

    When he received no answer, he went to investigate. Fear ran through him. What could’ve happened to Teddy and Andromeda in that time? He would not be able to handle it if something had happened. He couldn’t take another death. As he went through the living room and the kitchen, he heard laughter. Harry sprang to action and entered Andromeda’s music room.

    When he burst through the door, two women stared at him with wide eyes.

    “Harry, is everything okay?” Andromeda asked. Teddy was sitting on her lap, and her sister Narcissa was sitting to her right.

    “Y-yeah. I-I just didn’t hear you and…” Harry trailed off. Would he admit that he was scared of silence when Narcissa, the woman who lied to Voldemort to save his life, sat right there?

    “Oh,” said Andromeda. “Well, I should have told you. Narcissa a arrivé à cinq heures du soir. Oui? [arrived at five in the evening. Yes?]”

    “Oui, je comprends [Yes, I understand].” Harry answered. He finally put his wand away.

    “‘Arry!” Teddy called out suddenly and raised his arms.

    Harry picked Teddy up and held him.

    “He’s a very smart young man: English and French,” chimed in Narcissa.

    “So, you think that because he’s not pure-blooded, he can’t be bilingual?” Harry asked, his voice shaky. He didn’t know why he was so angry— he just was.

    Narcissa looked offended, “I-I realize that. I was not suggesting that-”

    “I-I’m sorry,” Harry spoke up. “I don’t know why I’m so angry. You did nothing wrong.”

    “It’s all right,” Narcissa said.

    The room was quiet for a minute or two. Finally, Andromeda broke the silence, “Did you find anything at the library?”

    Harry shrugged, “One book.”

    “Oh. Well...I invited Narcissa over. I should have spoken to you first; I didn’t realize that it would be a problem,” Andromeda said, trailing off.

    “Oh, no. Ce n’est pas une probleme, [It isn’t a problem,]” Harry answered.

    “It’s fine, P-Harry. I recognize that my actions have not made me the most trustworthy person-” Narcissa began, but was cut off by Harry.

    “No, no. Don’t worry about it. I’ve accepted your apology. I was just...surprised.”   

    “Oh, well…” Narcissa drew her shoulders back.

    “Er...well…” Harry said, breaking the awkward silence.

    Sticking out his right hand in an offer to shake Narcissa’s, he asked, “How have you been?”

    “Um...I have been...fine,” she answered with a stricken look, shaking his hand. “And yourself?”

    “I, um, am okay.”

    “Please, sit and join us, Harry,” Andromeda finally chimed in.

    Harry did as she asked, but he did not quite participate in the conversation. The two women fluttered in and out between French and English, and seemed to talk about everything: ranging from politics to family to food and more.

    At some point, however, Narcissa stated, “I only just wish that I knew where Draco is. I worry about him so much and he’s just disa-”

    Andromeda had opened her mouth to inform Narcissa of her son’s whereabouts, but Harry beat her, “He goes to the same uni as me,” he burst out. “Er...the University of Manchester.”

    Narcissa blinked and asked, “A...muggle university?”

    “Uh...yeah,” Harry replied. They both seemed to be at a loss for words. For a moment, Narcissa merely stared at Harry with her mouth open. Then, she shook herself out of her stupor.

    “Well, that’s good. I suppose. How...is he? Do you know? Have you two spoken?”

    “Er…” Harry did not know why, but he did not want to tell Malfoy’s mother about how unhealthy and, well, sad he looked. He answered, “We’ve spoken. We have to classes together and...er...have had lunch together.”

    “How is he?” she repeated.

    Harry admitted, “Well...he doesn’t look too healthy.” He stopped short of confiding that he had comforted Malfoy out of a panic attack.

    “Wh-why is that? Is he eating enough? Sleeping enough? Is he taking care of himself?”

    “Er…” mumbled Harry. “He, um…” Harry didn’t have it in him to tell her that her son sported dead hair, a grey and nervous complexion, and a skinny stature. “Well, he…” Harry wanted to comment that Malfoy had worked hard to become sober, but he couldn’t bring himself to admit to Narcissa that the blond was an alcoholic. “I don’t know.” It wasn’t a lie.

    Narcissa took a deep breath— she didn’t look convinced. She finally said, “Alright, then.”

    The night continued and Harry was more than glad to leave himself out of the conversation. Instead, he played with Teddy and eventually excused himself to put the infant to sleep and to do homework.

   

    The following morning, Andromeda bustled around. She was so happy that she hummed as she walked, and was cooking pancakes with magic. Harry couldn’t believe his eyes; he hadn’t seen Andromeda this happy since before Ted and Tonks died. Well, since the second war started.

    After Harry smoked a cigarettes, he came inside and declared, “Great night, last night.”

    Andromeda smiled, “Yes, it was.” She set the table and put their pancakes down.

    Harry yawned and asked, “How long was Narcissa here?”

    “Well, she got here at five and left around eleven thirty...so six and a half hours.”

    Harry raised his eyebrows in surprise, then he added, “Isn’t she exiled? How was she able to come here?”

    Andromeda smiled again and replied, “Let’s just say that aurors rather respect and trust anyone with ‘Tonks’ as a surname now.”


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9 TW/CW ableist slurs, parents, homophobia, prison m, bullying m, war m, food m

   

    Harry was just beginning to get his act back together. After the initial shock of seeing Narcissa Malfoy wore off, Harry had tried to catch up on his homework. He had requested updates on his grades and he discovered that he had an A in Psych, B- in English, B- in Criminal Justice, C in Algebra, A- in Earth Science, C in World History, and an A+ in French. He made himself promise to pull his Cs up to B-s, at least. Following Hermione’s advice, Harry bought a daily planner— except this one didn’t talk.

    On Monday morning, he breezed through his psychology class. His professor affirmed that they soon would be assigned a research paper that would be twenty percent of their total grade. Filled with worry, Harry walked to his English class deep in thought. Thus, he almost didn’t notice when a familiar voice called his name.

    “Potter!” Malfoy yelled. He did not seem happy, and so Harry was taken aback. Why was Malfoy so pissed off?

    Harry turned around and walked toward the blond, but was surprised when he was motioned to come back behind the building. Harry blinked, looked around, and joined Malfoy.

    Malfoy leaned towards Harry, clearly wishing to whisper; however, Harry stepped back, fearful of Malfoy’s obvious scowl.

    Malfoy rolled his eyes and said with great disdain, “What in the bloody hell gave you the idea that you should tell my mother that I’m ‘not okay’?”

    Harry’s mouth dropped in shock. This was what had gotten under Malfoy’s skin?

    “Don’t play dumb,” Malfoy said through clenched teeth. “My mother sent me a letter— after I tried to ignore her owls for so long, I just had to check this one— that declared that she had spoken to you and that you said that I don’t ‘look too healthy.’”

    Harry noticed that Malfoy was very expressive and that he frequently spoke with his hands and utilized finger quotes.

    “Well...um...I didn’t say that you weren’t okay. I said-er- that I don’t know how you are. Which isn’t a lie,” Harry replied, rubbing his neck.

    “What? And you couldn’t lie?” Malfoy sighed, rubbed his forehead, and ruffled his hair.

    Harry shrugged.

    “Really?” Malfoy asked, raising an eyebrow.

    “Well, what’s the big deal, anyway? Why don’t you want her to know how you are? Why won’t you talk to her?”

    “Bullocks, you ask a lot of questions. Why do you ask so many questions?” said Malfoy, evading the question.

    “She’s really worried, you know.”

    Malfoy sighed again and sat on the ground. After what seemed like forever, he finally spoke, “Potter, why do you care?”

    Harry shrugged.

    “Stop shrugging! Answer my damn question!” Malfoy demanded.

    Harry sat and said, “You have to answer mine first.” He paused when Malfoy rolled his eyes, then he repeated, “You have to ans-”

    “Holy fuck,” Malfoy said. “Fine, if you really want to know, I want nothing to do with my mother and father.”

    “Why?” Harry said.

    “No,” Malfoy spoke up. “I answer one: you answer one. Why do you care?”

    Harry thought for a few seconds and then said, “I dunno. Sometimes I just get randomly obsessed about specific details. It’s a trait I’ve had for...years. Probably since before Hogwarts.”

    Seeming satisfied with this answer, Malfoy went on to craft his own. He said, “Well, if you must know, I’ve been very angry with my parents. It-It’s something that happened about a year ago. As you know, the aurors began to round up Death Eaters and You-Know-W— Vol— You-Know-Who’s supporters beginning on May fifth. So, I was consequently with my parents after the Battle until May seventh. In that time. I decided to tell my father that—” Malfoy stopped. He seemed choked up. Harry waited respectfully and attentively until Malfoy spat out, “Well, I-I decided to tell him that I’m gay. And he...he. Nevertheless, he wasn’t happy or supportive, but he was sentenced to Azkaban soon so that was that. That’s not what really hurt, though. When You-Know-Who was still at large, you know, residing in the Manor, I told my mother— secretly, mind you. And she ignored me. She acted like I never told her. I thought that it was all an act for the Dark Lord, but then, after the war and before she was exiled, she tried to set me up with Astoria Greengrass!” Malfoy stopped to breathe and he looked at Harry.

    “Oh,” was all that Harry could say.

    “You do know who Astoria is, right? Daphne’s younger sister. Lovely girl, but c’mon! It just...it all showed that my mother didn’t really care nor support me.”

    Harry was at a loss for words. He did not expect Malfoy to be gay. But, after all, he didn’t expect himself to be bi, nor Ginny to be bi, nor Luna to be pan. Well, he wasn’t surprised about Luna.

    Malfoy’s eyes suddenly enlarged at the horror of what he said. He muttered, “Oh, Merlin. I can’t believe that I just told you all of that.”

    Harry glanced around awkwardly and then finally said, “Er— well, I’m sorry. I’m sure that your parents weren’t deliberately trying to hurt you. I know they’re probably not the most...er...open-minded people, and they just...didn’t know how to react.”

    Malfoy choked out a humorless laugh and said, “Right, Potter. My poor, bigoted parents.” He rolled his eyes again.

    “Er,” Harry said. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to...uh...jeopardize you by interacting with your mother.”

    Malfoy blinked in surprised and replied, “It’s— um— okay. I forgive you.”

    They stood around awkwardly for a few minutes until Malfoy spoke up, “Our...uh...English class is halfway over.”

    “Oh, right,” Harry said. “Um, I guess we should go in the classroom.”

    “Okay,” Malfoy consented. “I’ll go first and then you can wait a few minutes and go. So people don’t think we were skipping together.”

    “But we were..?”

    “And?”

    “Does it matter what people think?”

    “Um, yes.”

    Harry rolled his eyes and said, “Oh, come on.”

    Together, they walked to English class.

   

* * *

 

    Two weeks had passed and it was now the beginning of October. Malfoy and Harry had sat next to each other in classes and did speak on occasion. Their friendship consisted of a mutual desire for respectful silence and careful understanding. It was certainly the strangest friendship that Harry had ever had— and not just because the friend in question was an ex-Death Eater, ex-bully, ex-traitor. Malfoy was probably the only person with whom Harry had interacted that didn’t talk about the war in a way that made it sound like some horrible historical event. He spoke about it in such a way that made it sound like a fact. And, in some way, Harry and Malfoy had an unspoken pact: if they both wanted to talk about it, they’d talk about it; if not, neither would bring it up.

    Harry was pondering these facts as he travelled home after his Criminal Justice class. When he got inside the house, he put his bag down and walked over to Teddy. He picked Teddy up and said, “Bonjour, mon petit. Comment ça va? Est-ce que ta mamie fait le dîner? [Hello, little bit. How are you? Is your grandma making dinner?]”

    Teddy giggled and replied, “Bonjour, ‘Arry! Mamie cooks sweets!”

    Harry faked a gasp, “She does?!”

    Andromeda stepped in and responded, “Non, elle fait un gâteau pour ce week-end. [No, she is making a cake for the weekend.] Harry, I don’t know what  you did, but, whatever it was, it worked.”

    Harry set Teddy down, much to the toddler’s reluctance and asked, “Moi? [Me?] What’d I do?”

    “Well,” Andromeda started. “Narcissa and Draco have made up. I received an owl from her, and she is in happy tears. I don’t think you realize how relieved she is. My sister spent most of the past year worried about her son’s mental health. Nevertheless, I have decided to invite them over for the weekend. If that’s okay with you, of course.”

    “Oh...yeah! That’d be great. So, um, is the cake for them?”

    “Yes, I hope they like chocolate.”

    The night droned on and Harry choked back a strange sense of nervousness. Having Malfoy visit his home wasn’t that big of a deal, was it?

   


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10 TW/CW food, Halloween, alcohol, death m, ghosts m, alcoholism, spiders m, drugs, addiction, cigarettes

The Malfoys’ visit came and went fairly quickly. It was awkward at first because it was Draco and Narcissa’s first moment interacting for hours at a time in almost a year. It was also awkward because Harry had made a conscious effort to call them Draco and Narcissa, instead of Malfoy and Mrs. Malfoy. And then it was also awkward because Draco had no idea how to interact with a child— let alone a part-werewolf, metamorphmagus child. However, everyone made sure to act in such a way that would facilitate comfortable feelings for everyone else. After four hours of communication on Sunday, none of them felt like strangers anymore.  
It was now the twelfth of October and they had arranged weekly dinners. Harry was surprised because Draco and his mother had restored their relationship to such a point as to where he had allocated some time in order to pay Narcissa a visit at her home in France.  
Andromeda’s next plan that would allow their relationships to progress was small participation in Halloween celebrations. This was significant to Harry because he was not sure how this would impact him in his grief. Last Halloween, he spent the entire day paying his respects not only to his parents, but to all of those whom had died due to Voldemort. It wasn’t some sort of self-pity thing, in Harry’s opinion, but rather a means of remembrance.  
According to Andromeda, much had to be done. She had wanted to design a party that would mirror those that she had done for Tonks’s childhood. They had always put indoor and outdoor decorations, held a small party on Halloween night, and handed out candy for trick-or-treaters. Currently, she had asked Harry to go to a muggle grocery in order to get some muggle candy. She claimed that the wizard children had always loved it as much as wizarding candy. Harry could see how: there was a safer aspect to jelly beans than there was for Bertie Bott’s Every Flavor Beans.  
Nevertheless, that’s where he was now: at ASDA, purchasing Cadbury’s, Maltesers, and Kinder Eggs. It was there that he thought the same thing that he so often thought, “It’s easier to be in the muggle world.” He sighed because he knew that Dumbledore would not be very proud of him. Right now, he was thinking like a coward— not a Gryffindor. He sighed again because he wasn’t sure if it mattered anymore.  
Harry checked his items out and left the store. After that, he apparated to Hogsmeade. Before taking off his cloak, Harry prepared himself for the soon-to-come surge of wizarding press. He took off his cloak, folded it and put it into his bag, and stepped into the sunlight. He walked for a total of two minutes, amazingly enough, without anyone noticing him until one man glanced up and spotted Harry’s glasses and scar.  
“Is that—? It isn’t. It’s-It’s Harry Potter!” he screamed.  
At that time, a few people dropped their bags, half-walked--half-jogged towards Harry, and attempted to shake his hands. He tried to play along, for some people craved his touch as if he could heal the sick and save the dying. Several more simply gasped and stared at the scene— unable to comprehend Harry’s presence. He quickly gave out hugs and handshakes and even posed for a few photos. Soon thereafter, he departed the scene and paced to Honey Duke’s.  
Aware that he could not possibly avoid the thankful onlookers, Harry kept his head up while he shopped. He wasn’t going to hide— and maybe, just maybe, his dad would be proud. He wondered if that would cancel out his assumption for Dumbledore’s feelings, but then filed the thought away. Once at Honey Duke’s, he bought chocolate frogs and Bertie Bott’s Every Flavor Beans and licorice wands and fizzing whizbees and cauldron cake. Harry wanted this Halloween to be amazing for Andromeda, yet he also wanted to please Draco and Narcissa. He did not know why he was so worried about that.  
After he paid for the sweets, Harry went to the Hog’s Head for a firewhiskey. Even though the bar was a refuge for sketchy wixen [AN* wixen is the gender neutral and plural form for wizards/witches], he could not avoid the press there. While he waited for his drink, twelve people came up to him and thanked him for his sacrifice. Harry didn’t quite mind, but it certainly didn’t feel great to have strangers tell him about their loved ones that died in the war.  
After Harry finished his firewhiskey, he gathered the bags of candy and apparated home. He soon put the candy on the dining table, then entered the kitchen where Andromeda was making candy apples.  
“Andromeda, that smells amazing,” he informed her.  
“Merci, it’s all from scratch. I was thinking that we could have candy apples— y’know, caramel, sprinkles, chocolate, cherry sauce— and red punch— kinda like a bloody color— and peanut butter-chocolate fudge, ooh! and graveyard brownies.”  
“Graveyard brownies? What’re those?”  
“Well, chocolate chip brownies shaped like graves. We can even have little white chocolate ghosts!”  
“And all of this is going to be from scratch?”  
“Well, of course! I refuse to use nasty, powdered mix.”  
“But that sounds like a lot of work.”  
“Well, lucky for us, you just so happen to love cooking,” Andromeda winked at him.  
Harry smiled. However, he noticed that things were much more calm and less colorful than normal. He asked, “Where’s Teddy?”  
“Oh, he’s taking a nap. Listen, I’ve started to plan our party and the decorations we need.”  
“That sounds great.” Harry paused and watched Andromeda stir the caramel concoction. “Um...I-I need to ask you something.”  
“Okay. That’s fine. Would it be rude if I continued to cook while you do so? I know that you deserve eye contact, but I don’t want to burn the caramel.”  
“Of course it’s okay. It’s just…” Harry cleared his throat and said, “You’re not...making this too scary, are you? I’m-I’m not the only one who has been affected by death in the past year and a half— Merlin knows— and I don’t want anyone to be frightened. Especially not Draco and Narcissa because they lived with Voldemort and all and-”  
Harry was cut off by Andromeda’s sudden hug. She had put her wooden spoon down and turned the heat on the stove down to “low.”  
“Harry,” she said, softening the embrace. “You are the kindest and most considerate person I know. Don’t ever change.” She let go of him and resumed her stirring. “Don’t worry— there are no special effects like I always did for Dora. No spell show, no fog, no spiders. I want everyone to be safe and happy. The scariest thing here will be the ghosts of the brownie graveyard— and they’ll be smiling!”  
Harry grinned. “Merci.” He watched her for a few minutes before asking, “So, what’s on our agenda?”  
“Okay, so I figure that we can make goody bags for everyone that comes to the party. It won’t be that taxing because it’s only Narcissa, Draco, Arthur, Molly, Ron, Hermione, Ginny, Fleur, Bill, George, Angelina, Percy, and...Charles, I think?”  
“Charlie.”  
“Oh, right! So, we can include some candy— put in some floss for Hermione— , a coupon for half-off drinks at the Three Broomsticks— well, not for Narcissa as she’s technically in exile— , and a small trinket. I was thinking that we could do one Maltesers pack, one Cadbury chocolate, one Kinder egg, one licorice wand, one cauldron cake, and one fizzing whizbee.”  
“Merlin, ‘Meda. Did you already look in the bags?”  
“Oh, don’t kid yourself. They’re transparent!”  
“All right, all right.”  
“Now, I have the trinkets all picked out. The list is as follows, so write this down: a silver owl pendant for Cissy, a book on the goblin rebellions for Draco, the Dummy’s book for computers for Arthur, a bronze charm bracelet for Molly, dragon-skin gloves for Ron, The God Particle for Hermione, a one month subscription card to ESPN for Ginny, Robert Reich’s biography for Fleur, Les Dragons en France for Bill, a full-set muggle magic kit for George, Pride and Prejudice for Angelina, The Invisible Hand for Percy, and a lovely denim jacket for Charlie.”  
“Jesus Christ, Andromeda! You said ‘small trinkets.’”  
“Well, I couldn’t help myself. Narcissa’s always loved owls, Drakypoo is a history buff, Arthur is interested in muggle communication, Molly likes puns, Hermione likes science, Fleur is getting her doctorate in economics, Bill likes-”  
“Okay, Okay. I get it. Also, ‘Drakypoo’? I don’t think he’ll like that.”  
“I missed out on nearly twenty years of being his aunt. As the kids say, ‘he’ll deal.’”  
“So, will he call you ‘Auntie Andy’ now?”  
Andromeda let out a small chuckle. She turned the stove off.  
“Now, the caramel will cool for five minutes. As I was saying, we’ll have goody bags and we also need to have people giving out candy to trick-or-treaters. Cissy and I have agreed that we’ll do that. As for decorations, outside: we’ll have orange lights, some jack-o-lanterns, and a dancing skeleton. Ooh! We need to carve pumpkins and bake a pie. Also, what song should the skeleton dance to?”  
“Hmm...Spooky Scary Skeletons— The Dance Remix?”  
“Perfect. For the inside, we can levitate rubber bats and put up some cute, cardboard cutouts of monsters. We can do vampires and mummies, but I think that werewolves would be rather inappropriate. Oh, and shouldn’t we all wear costumes?”  
“Yes! Oh my God. We can dress Teddy up!”  
Andromeda squealed in reply. She then asked, “Can you hand me the sticks and apples? The caramel is ready.”  
“Sure,” Harry gave her the materials. “Hey, are we gonna have treacle tart? You know it’s my favorite.”  
“I almost forgot. I have a recipe for it. Would you like to start on it now?”  
“Why, of course!” Harry faked a posh accent and began to search through the recipe book.

 

Harry raked the gold and brown leaves all to one pile. October had begun to set in, but it was rather chilly for the twenty-ninth. He was wearing the sweater that Mrs. Weasley had gotten him for the last Christmas, yet he still had goosebumps. Or were those a result from his anticipation for the arising party? Only Merlin knew…  
He swept the leaves into a garbage bag and went inside the house. Everything looked perfect. All of the decorations were up and the goody bags were fixed. The only things left to do were the graveyard brownies and the dinner. Andromeda and Harry decided to clean on the twenty-ninth, bake brownies on the thirtieth, and cook dinner a few hours before the party started.

The days passed by and it was 8 AM on Halloween. Harry hadn’t slept well and had been going in and out of consciousness since 1 AM. Finally, he decided to get up and make coffee. He put on a hoodie, turn the coffee pot on, and escaped outside for a cigarette.  
After that, he chugged two cups of black coffee and got out the ingredients for a pork roast. If he were to dress Teddy, dress himself, do last-minute cleaning, and cook dinner, he would have to start early. So, he cut up carrots and potatoes and pork until 9AM. At that time, he woke Teddy up and bathed him. The toddler didn’t make it an easy job and his squeals woke Andromeda at 9:30. She vacuumed and dusted, and Harry dressed Teddy up in his giraffe costume. Teddy seemed to like it because he’d often change his skin color to match the browns and yellows of the outfit.  
They all ate lunch at noon and then went their separate ways. Andromeda went to her room to mix the candy together in bowls and to change into her costume—Greek mythology’s Medusa. Harry put Teddy down for a nap and then headed to the kitchen in order to make brownies.  
About an hour and a half later, the brownies were cooling, Teddy was awake, and Harry and Andromeda were making icing from scratch. Two hours from the party, Harry went to his room so that he could finally get ready. He wasn’t going as anything special—just a pirate. However, Harry wanted it to be amazing, so he’d bought a full outfit, an eyepatch, a fake beard, and eyeliner. It took him thirty minutes and four tries, but his makeup was finally perfectly messy.  
At 3:30, Harry set out the drinks and snacks and finalized the pork roast. The door began to sing and Harry knew that the first guests had arrived. He opened the door and invited Hermione and Ron inside.  
“Hey! How are you two?” Harry asked.  
“We’re great!” Ron answered. He smiled and looked at Hermione.  
She nodded and held up her left hand. A golden ring, topped with a ruby, glittered in front of Harry’s eyes.  
“Wow,” he said. “Is that..?”  
“No,” Ron replied. “It’s a promise ring.”  
“Notice how it doesn’t have a diamond,” said Hermione.  
“We decided on Ruby—for Gryffindor,” Ron elaborated.  
“That’s great. Do you know when you’re gonna tie the knot?” Harry asked.  
“Umm..” Ron said.  
“We’ve just decided to wait and get engaged at the right time. I’d like to get engaged after university and then maybe actually get married a few years later. I’m considering getting my doctorate in chem at a graduate school in the States,” Hermione said.  
“Woah, Hermione. You could, like, go to Harvard or something,” Harry said, astonished.  
She bit her lip, “I don’t know…I don’t think that…”  
Andromeda came in the room and greeted them. “Hello! How are you guys? Oh my, is that real ruby? Ron, I hope you’re treating her right.”  
Ron’s face went as red as the gem, and Hermione grinned. They all left the room to go chat and Harry opened the door to let the rest of the Weasleys in.  
Five minutes later, Narcissa arrived. She was dressed in an elegant, green silk dress and was immediately welcomed in by her sister. At 4:15, Harry was starting to doubt that Draco would show up. Andromeda saw the concern on his face and offered him a reassuring smile.  
Harry soon decided to stop waiting by the door and started to socialize. After talking to the Weasleys for ten minutes, he and Ginny set off to converse.  
“So, guess who made it onto the Harpies,” Ginny commanded with a smirk.  
“Hmm…was it Neville?”  
Ginny slapped him playfully on the arm and said, “I got the acceptance letter two days ago. I legit cried—I couldn’t believe it!”  
\ Harry grinned and Ginny asked, “What?”  
He replied, “Nothing. Just can’t believe that you said ‘legit.’”  
They continued to talk about Ginny’s career for a few minutes until she finally asked, “So, what about you?”  
“What about me?”  
“Well, you’re almost finished with your first semester, right? Do you know what you want to do yet?”  
Harry frowned and said, “I dunno.”  
They dropped their conversation and walked to the living room. Harry’s jaw fell when he observed Draco and Mr. Weasley deep in conversation.  
Ron pulled Harry aside and whispered, “He wrote us all apology letters.” He paused to show Harry the three page letter. “This has gotta be at least thirty inches. Can you believe it? Dad wanted to talk to him about the muggle educational system.”  
Harry smiled and walked over to Mr. Weasley and Draco. He waved when Draco noticed him. The two spoke for a few more minutes until Mr. Weasley excused himself.  
“So, you look shocked. Did you think that I wasn’t going to show?” Draco asked.  
“Well, you were late.”  
“Yes, but have I ever not kept my promises?”  
Harry furrowed his eyebrows and said, “I’m sure that there was at least one time.”  
Draco laughed.

The night continued and Harry joined Narcissa and Andromeda on the porch. Eventually, Andromeda went inside to get more candy.  
“I wanted to thank you,” Narcissa said to Harry. “for forcing my son to cease his self-isolation.”  
“Oh, I wouldn’t say I forced him…”  
“Well, semi-coercing him…” she corrected herself. Then she admitted, “Draco hasn’t been well since after the war. He has been dabbling in muggle drugs and alcohols-“  
“He’s been sober for a really long time,” Harry interrupted.  
“Yes, I knew that you were withholding information from me,” Narcissa smiled sadly. “I’ve been worried about him and you’ve helped him…” she trailed off when Andromeda came back out.  
Harry sat outside for about twenty more minutes and then found his way inside. He found Draco admiring the brownie graveyard by the dessert table.  
“Like it?” Harry asked. Draco smiled and nodded.  
“Andromeda and I made it.”  
They stood around awkwardly.  
“So,” Harry said. “Ginny got accepted into the Holyhead Harpies.”  
“Cool,” Draco replied. He furrowed his eyebrows, opened his mouth, shook his head, and closed his mouth.  
“Yes?” Harry asked.  
“What about you? Why aren’t you an auror or a Quidditch star?”  
Harry shrugged, “You?”  
“Well, the Ministry would never hire me…and I don’t really care for Quidditch.”  
“You don’t?”  
“Nah.”  
“Oh.”

It was about 10 PM when Harry decided to put Teddy to bed. He walked out of the toddler’s room and  
Bam!  
“We really have got to quit doing that,” Harry informed Draco.  
“S-sorry.”  
“S’okay.”  
They made eye contact and Draco asked, “Why are you at a muggle uni?”  
“No press,” Harry said matter-of-factly.  
“Oh…what are you majoring in?”  
“Dunno yet…you?”  
“Uh…history. I think that I want a minor, but I don’t know what it’d be.”

Mostly everyone had left by midnight. Harry walked around snacking on the leftover candy with Fleur and Bill. Eventually, he excused himself for a cigarette and they joined Narcissa and Andromeda in the living room.  
He went outside to the back porch—half-hoping for solitude. Yet, when he saw the dim glow of a lit cigarette, he knew that he wouldn’t be alone.  
“Hey, what’s up?” Harry asked Draco.  
“Hey…” the blond sleepily replied. “Just…wanted to be alone.”  
“Well, too bad,” Harry joked. Draco yawned.  
Harry sat down and asked, “When did you start smoking?”  
“Fourth year, maybe fifth. You?”  
“After the war. Andromeda was smoking and I figured that it would relieve stress. Also, why did you start then? Cigarettes are muggle things, right?”  
Draco shrugged, “Does it matter?”  
“Guess not.”  
Draco finished his cigarette, but didn’t go back inside. Harry took the blond’s presence as permission to continue.  
“So, I spoke with your mother…” Harry said.  
“Oh, Merlin,” Draco cringed.  
Harry continued, “She said that the war was pretty hard on you…”  
“Hmm…I wonder why. It’s not like Voldemort was living in my home or anything like that…”  
“Yes, bu—hey..”  
“Hey?”  
“You said it. You said his name.”  
“Yes.”  
“How?”  
“Well, typically you move your mouth and then your larynx—“  
“You know what I mean.”  
“I guess I just…got over it.”  
“Got over it?”  
“Yeah.”  
“Is that how you stopped drinking and doing drugs too?”  
“Stop,” Draco demanded. “What else did she tell you?”  
“That she was worried about you because you had been doing muggle drugs and alcohols.”  
Draco sighed, “Why do you care?”  
“Because we’re friends and friends care about each other. We are friends, right?”  
“Yes. But still—“  
“Drugs are dangerous.”  
“Woah, really? I never knew!”  
“You don’t have to be so sarcastic. What stuff were you doing?”  
“Pot, Ritalin, coke…”  
“Cocaine?!”  
“No, Coca Cola,” Draco rolled his eyes.  
“Enough sarcasm! Draco, that’s dangerous.”  
“It’s not like I’m doing it now!”  
“Why were you ever?”  
“Oh my God,” Draco said. He stood up and paced around the porch. He lit another cigarette.  
“I just don’t understand,” Harry said. “I’m sorry.”  
“Because I was depressed,” Draco responded, his voice substantially lower in volume. “Because I am depressed, damn it.”  
“So are others,” Harry replied. “Other people from the war are depressed too, but they don’t drink or do drugs.”  
“You’re so oblivious.”  
“Where did you even get the idea to do muggle drugs?”  
“Half-bloods at Hogwarts.”  
“What?”  
“I started doing cocaine before sixth year. I bought it from some of our classmates.”  
“Gryffindors?”  
“Some.”  
“Who?”  
“That’s classified.”  
Harry lit another cigarette and stared at Draco. He was speechless.  
“I never had a choice, you know,” Draco said.  
“To do drugs?”  
“No. In the war.”  
“Oh.”  
The two men sat on the back porch until 2 AM when Draco finally decided to go home.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11 TW/CW food m, insomnia, drugs, cigarettes, homophobia, biphobia, cissexism m, nightmares m, genocide m

            Harry decided that he was going to take his time and walked to Hogsmeade. He and Ginny had agreed to meet at the Three Broomsticks at 2 PM on November 3rd. He had left his English class early and had gotten Draco to agree to email the rest of the notes to him.

            When he finally got inside the pub, Ginny was waiting.

            “I ordered for us already,” she said.

            “Mmm…” Harry replied.

            They sat down and Ginny immediately leaned forward and asked, “So, what do you think about Hermione and Ron?”

            “Well, we’re best friends…”

            “I mean… _ugh_. You know what I mean.”

            Harry smiled to confirm her suspicions.

            “Mum thinks that they’re getting married too soon.”

            “Well, according to Hermione, it’s only a ‘promise’ and their actual wedding wouldn’t be until, like, eight years from now.”

            “Yes, but you know my mum.”

            “Yeah…she’s just protective.”

            “A little too much, if you ask me.” Ginny smiled as the waiter had come with their food.

            “Hey, Ginny. Does your family know about you…and Luna?”

            Ginny raised her eyebrows and replied, “Yes, of course.”

            “Oh…and they’re…accepting?”

            “Yes…Harry, why are you asking?”

            “Well, it’s just…I…I consider them to be my family and…y’know.”

            “What do I know?”

            Harry inhaled. He spoke up, “Ginny, I’m bi.”

            “Wait, weren’t you just berating your therapist because it was ‘bizarre’ to question your sexuality?”

            “Err…”

            “When did this happen? Like, when did you find out?”

            “Um…when you told me that you’re bi.”

            “Oh,” Ginny said. Then, as an afterthought, “Who else knows?”

            “Ron and Hermione.”

            “Oh, wow. Are you gonna tell Mum and Dad?”

            “I-I want to. I dunno. I guess I’ll tell them when the time is right.”

            “Harry, take it from someone who knows _tons_ of LGBT people: there is no right time.”

 

            Harry rubbed his eyes. He couldn’t believe that after being prescribed Ambien _and_ starting PTSD meetings, he still had problems sleeping. He rolled over in bed so that he could face his alarm clock. “Lumos,” he said. It read 4:06.

            Today was the fifth of November—a British muggle holiday, but Andromeda wanted it to be an excuse to get together with Narcissa and Draco. They had a dinner scheduled for 5 PM that evening and Harry was eagerly awaiting it. Since Halloween, he had really begun to enjoy—and even crave—spending time with Draco.

            Harry begrudgingly got out of bed. He wanted to fix turkey for dinner, so he decided that he might as well go ahead and begin. Following the steps that he so often took, he walked out of his room, fixed coffee, and walked outside to smoke.

            He worked on the turkey and smoked until 5AM. At that time, he got out his homework. Because the semester was almost over, an air of tension was spread concerning finals week. Normally, Harry would not have cared yet and would have begun studying a few days before exams; however, all of his professors had assigned final projects that were worth about as much as the exams themselves.

            In Psychology, he had a fifteen page research paper and thirty slide presentation on one metal illness. In English, he had a twenty page paper comparing and contrasting two works of British contemporary literature from the syllabus. In Criminal Justice, he had to design his own two-hundred question practice exam complete with three (answered) essay questions. In Algebra, he had to list every formula used in the classroom, as well as the meanings of the variables. In Earth Science, he had a ten page (fifteen source minimum) research paper. In World History, he had to write three five-page essays from a given list of options. And in French, he had to research current French culture and present in French. All were due the second week of December and Harry had not even started them.

            Harry worked on his homework until 8 AM when he heard a tap on the window. A large, light brown owl held a letter and a copy of the _Daily Prophet_. It was Hermione’s new owl.

            He picked up the letter first and read,

            “Harry,

            Have you seen this?

            Love, Hermione”

            He was slightly jarred by the urgency of the letter. Yet he wondered how bad an article about him could really be. He hadn’t touched the _Prophet_ in a year and he had been okay. With shaking hands, he untied the newspaper from the owl’s leg.

            On the front page, he saw the headline,

            “ **THE BI WHO LIVED** ”

            He did not even have to skim the article to understand that someone had overheard him come out to Ginny at the Three Broomsticks. Silently, he folded up the paper and stalked back to bed.

            It was 10 AM before Harry had stopped sulking. He could not believe that someone had been so low as to where they would actually eavesdrop on such a personal conversation. More important, he couldn’t believe that it wasn’t Rita Skeeter.

            Harry Went about his day as normal as he could. At lunch time, Andromeda stopped him and told him that she would always love and accept him, and that Tonks wasn’t straight, either. However, Harry’s mood grew fouler as more and more papers came in. It was as if their accuracy got worse with time.

            “ **THE CHOSEN ONE—GAY?** ”

“ **IS THE BOY WHO LIVED GOING THROUGH A PHASE?”**

**“DOES POTTER SLEEP WITH MEN FOR ATTENTION?”**

**“HARRY POTTER DENOUNCES RELATIONSHIP WITH WEASLEY GIRL TO EXPLORE SEXUALITY”**

When it was time to finish cooking dinner, Harry just wanted to skip the entire event. He would have, but he knew that Andromeda was counting on him. He wanted to make her proud. By 4:30, he gathered up his wits and changed into his favorite green sweater. Since his Hogwarts days had finished, he’d grown fond of the color.

            The doorbell rang at 4:45 and Harry opened the door. He was surprised: he expected Narcissa since she was always early. What he got instead was Draco with his hair gelled in a way that paralleled sixth year, a fancy, silky black button-down shirt, and a bouquet of flowers. Harry could smell his cologne from a foot away.

            “Er, thanks,” Harry said. “But I’m not really a flower person.”

            Draco smirked, “They’re for Andy.”

            “Oh,” Harry sighed and faked disappointment. “I suppose.”

            He opened the door and welcomed Draco in.

            The blond looked at Harry and said, “I like your jumper. It matches your eyes.”

            “Thanks,” Harry replied. “It’s my favorite color.”

            “Really? Mine too,” Draco said. Then. he awkwardly added, “Um…not green like your eyes, but…um… Slytherin green.”

            Harry blushed and was saved from replying when Andromeda greeted Draco with a bear-hug and cheek-kiss.

            The doorbell rang again and Harry welcomed Narcissa in. Harry mentally noted that she and Draco still were not close enough to travel together. He let Narcissa, Draco, and Andromeda chat while he carved the turkey and set the table. Harry carried Teddy over to the table and placed him in his high chair.

            “We’ve discovered something magnificent about Teddy,” Andromeda told Draco and Narcissa. “When he wants a certain person to hold im he changes his hair color to match theirs!”

            “You can imagine how frustrating it is when Ron’s family is over,” Harry added.

            Narcissa smiled, and Harry found himself to be surprised that he could refer to the Weasleys as “Ron’s family” and Narcissa Malfoy would still understand.

            The blonde turned her attention to Teddy, “ _Comment_ ç _a va,_ [How are you,] Teddy? _Tu es mignon aujourd’hui._ [You are cute today.] _”_

 _“Je suis mignon toujours!_ [I am always cute!]” He replied.

            “Oh, _oui_. _Comment est-ce que j’ai oubli_ é _?_ [Yes. How did I forget?]” Narcissa continued to baby-talk Teddy while Andromeda spoke to Draco.

            “ _Est-ce que tu aimes tes cours?_ [Is it that you like your courses?] _”_

 _“Oui, je voudrais_ ét _udier plus de l’histoire, mais je comprends que la premi_ è _re ann_ é _e est pour les cours essentiels._ [Yes, I would like to study more history, but I understand that the first year is for the core classes.] _”_

“ _Oui_ , of course. _Aimes-tu l’histoire des_ muggles _ou des sorciers?_ [Do you like muggle history or magical history?]”

            “ _Je ne sais pas_ , [I don’t know,]” He cleared his throat and switched to English. “On one hand, I’ve spent my entire life studying the wizarding world and our related history, but on the other hand, I feel like muggle history just _explains_ so much.”

            Andromeda nodded, “Especially if you study the history before the Statute of Secrecy.”

            “So, are you gonna help out in the reconstruction of Hogwarts, Draco?” Harry asked.

            “What?” Draco choked on his drink. “There’s no way that they’d want me there.”

            “Professor McGonagall said that anyone is welcome,” Harry retorted.

            “Headmistress,” Andromeda corrected him

            “What all are they doing? Term started this year, didn’t it?” Draco asked.

            “Yes, but there are still plans to fix the greenhouses and they want to build new dorms.”

            “New dorms? I read in the _prophet_ this morning that they were done with dorms.”

            Harry held his breath. He hoped that Draco had somehow overlooked the front page this morning. H replied, “Professor, I mean Headmistress, McGonagall has got a new rule passed that says that sorting will take place on the first day for second years. Something about house unity…”

            “Why didn’t the _Prophet_ say that?”

            “Because the _Daily_ Prophet isn’t a good news source.”

            Draco winced and looked down at his dinner. Harry’s face flushed and he felt like disappearing.

            They all talked about current events for the rest of dinner, but tiptoed around the article concerning Harry. Whenever the _Daily Prophet_ was brought up, Harry noticed that Andromeda stuffed her mouth with food, Narcissa blushed profoundly, and Draco winced. It was 6:30 PM when Harry finally excused himself for a cigarette. He grabbed a cup of coffee and relocated to the back porch. He was halfway finished with his cigarette when the door opened again. Draco stepped out.

            “Sorry,” the blond force a smile. “I always need a smoke after I eat.” Like Harry, he was carrying a mug filled with coffee.

           “Coffee? At this time of night?” Harry joked.

           “Haha, yeah,” Draco replied. Harry noticed that the other man was definitely faking a good mood. “It’s a savior when one can’t sleep.”

           “Oh. You have problems sleeping?”

           Draco bit the inside of his cheek. He sat down next to Harry.

           “Listen,” Draco said. “I’m sorry...about those news articles.”

           “It’s fine,” Harry lied.

           “No, it’s not,” Draco stated. “They had no business forcibly outing you. Nor sticking labels on you without your permission. Your sexuality is your business and your business only.”

           With the force at which Draco bit back, one might think that the tabloids had personally offended him.   

           “Maybe so,” Harry replied. “But I’m used to them sticking their noses in my business.”

           “Well, I’m sorry. It just…really sucks…for you.”

           “Yeah.” Harry mustered up the courage and asked, “Why are you so pissed about it, anyways?”

           Draco sighed and replied, “Well, they did the same thing to Pansy, didn’t they?”

           “What?”

           “Pansy. Pansy Parkinson. She came out to one of her friends in a wizard pub and some journalist outed her to everyone—including her family. Didn’t you see it?”

           “Today was the first time that I’d seen wizarding news since I was seventeen.”

           “Oh, well then.”

           “Did her parents disown her?”

           “Nah, they were okay with it.”

           “Really?”

           Draco snorted, “Nope. They claimed that they were, but then they tried to set up an arranged marriage for her. She almost went along with it—y’know, to produce an heir, which was not only super cissexist, but also fucked up—until the story was leaked.”

           “What’d she do?”

           “She called the whole thing off, moved to Italy, learned Italian, and started dating muggle women.”        

           “Really?”

           “Yep.”  
           “Draco,” Harry said.

           “Yes?”

           “No offense, but why didn’t you do that?”

           “Didn’t I?”

           “But you’re still in Britain.”

           “Well, my probation requires me to stay in the country. I do get the occasional exceptions to visit my mother, of course.”

           “Oh.”

           “Yeah.”

          

           Draco and Harry moved back inside a few minutes later. They sat in the living room and conversed with Andromeda and Narcissa for an hour before Draco excused himself for another smoke. Harry decided that it would be the perfect chance to corner him.

           He stepped out a minute later and said, “Oh, sorry. I’ll go back in if you want me to.”

           “No, no. It’s okay.” Draco gave him a sincere smile.

           Harry sat down right next to him. In such close proximity, he could make out the various blonds in Draco’s hair, the blue-ish grey of his irises, and the curves of his jaw. Harry cleared his throat and looked away. He almost forgot what he was there for.

           “You look nice tonight.” Harry mentally reprimanded himself for such a shitty icebreaker. He wasn’t trying to flirt with Draco—he was trying to talk to him.

           “Um…thank you,” the blond responded quizzically.

           “What?” Harry asked innocently.

           “Nothing. Just not used to being complimented by the Bi Who Lived.”

           Harry inhaled sharply in surprise.

           “Sorry!” Draco practically yelled. “I shouldn’t have said that. I had no busi-“

           Once the shock wore off, Harry laughed. “Mate, it’s fine. You’ve gotta admit: it’s a pretty brilliant headline.”

           “Yeah,” Draco giggled. “Better than _Witch Weekly_ ’s.”

           “Oh, Merlin. What was theirs?”

           “’Ladies: Step back. Harry likes men.”

           “Holy fuck. They make it sound like ‘only.’”

           “What did you expect? Most people don’t even know what ‘bisexual’ means,” Draco rolled his eyes and offered Harry another cigarette.

           “ _Merci_. It’s ridiculous.”

           “So why did you come out here?”

           “Huh?”

           “I know that you didn’t come out here to compliment me or to talk about your sexual preference.”

           “Oh, er—“

           “You really have to expand your vocabulary.”           

           Harry cursed under his breath. This really was not going how he wanted it to. He asked, “Well, you have problems sleeping, right?”

           “Yes…” Draco had turned to face Harry and was very seriously maintaining eye contact.

           “Why?”

           “You know why.”       

           “Nightmares?”

           “Yes.” 

           “Well,” Harry stopped to do his breathing exercises to steady his beating heart. “Me too. And I attend meetings—once every other week—for my PTSD. And they help.”

           “How do you explain those dreams to _muggles_?” Draco asked.

           “Oh, no. Wizarding therapists hold th-“

           “No.”

           “No?”

           “No,” Draco said adamantly.

           “But you won’t even hear me out!”

           “No.”

           “Draco! Why?”

           “Because.”      

           “That’s not an answer.”   

           Draco started to curse in French.

           “Just, please, tell me why,” Harry said. He took Draco’s hands to plead, but then dropped them as soon as he realized what he was doing.

           “The same reason why I won’t help with Hogwarts!”

           “You’re scared!”

           “No!”

           “Coward!”

           “Gryffindork!”

           Harry scoffed, “How childish.”          

           Draco rolled his eyes. “You don’t understand.”  
           “Exactly. _I_ don’t run away from my problems.”        

           “Harry!”

           “Draco!”

           Draco grunted in frustration. He lowered his voice, “No one wants me there.”

           “I do.” 

           “That’s different.”

           “How?”

           “It just…is,” Malfoy answered. “No one else understands _why_ I did what I did.”

           “To be fair,” Harry countered. “Neither do I.”

           “God damn it. How many reasons do you want?”

           “All of them!”

           “Fine. One: I was spoon-fed pure-blood propaganda as a kid.”

           “So was Andromeda.”

           “Two: I was a scared kid when _he_ came back.”         

           “So was I.”

           “Three: I didn’t realize what _genocide_ really _meant_. Four: I was scared for my family. Five: I knew that the Dark Lord would kill me for being gay. Six: he was in my _home_. Seven: I had to follow my parents. Eight: No one offered me a way out until it was _too late_.”

           “Dumbledore-“

           “It was too late!” Draco was yelling again.

           “Bu-“

           “It was too late, Potter! He had my parents! And my home! And all my options were gone! They were gone! They were gone!” Draco stopped when he realized that his face was wet. He was crying.             

           “I want to help you,” Harry whispered.

           Draco made his way back to the door. Before he touched the door knob, he turned around and said, “I’ll consider it.”

           Harry continued to sit outside so that he could watch the sunset.


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12 TW/CW death m, ghosts m, car wrecks m, classism (possibly?), food, animals m

           The snow was pouring down rather heavily for early December. Harry had checked the weather before going out, but he really did not expect six inches of snow. Now, because he insisted on continuing his plans, he was being scolded by a blond drama queen.

           “ _Really_ , Harry,” Draco said. “If we get stuck in this and die, I will annoy the _shit_ out of you as a ghost.”

           Draco and Harry had made up since their spat during the November fifth dinner, and Harry had somehow convinced Draco to go Christmas shopping with him.

           “Harry, brake! Brake, brake, brake!”

           Harry knew that Draco was still slightly frightened by cars, so he was pretty surprised when Draco agreed to let Harry drive.

           “Merlin, are you _trying_ to wreck us?” Draco asked.

           Harry found it cute—er, funny—how Draco clenched onto his seat for dear life. And also irritating.

           “Are we here? Oh, thank God,” Draco sighed with relief.

           They decided to attend to Draco’s shopping first because he had less people to shop for: Andromeda, Teddy, and Pansy. The car was parked in a Tiffany’s parking lot, but neither men moved.

           “Harry,” Draco whined. “It’s going to be _cold_.”

           “Is that what happens in December?” Harry sarcastically asked.

           “Shush. You’re the one who _insisted_ on dragging lil’ ol’ _me_ out here in a _blizzard_ ,” Draco said, moving his hands for extra dramatic flair.

           Harry had noticed that Draco was a _very_ expressive person—especially when complaining. He couldn’t help but laugh.

           “Do not find joy in my _pain_ , Potter! This is very serious.”

           Harry opened the car door and stepped out.

           “Woah! Don’t leave me,” Draco called.

           “Wouldn’t dream of it,” Harry claimed.

           Once inside the store, Draco merely stood by the door, looking at all the glittering merchandise with wide eyes.

           “Have you...never…shopped for anyone else before?” Harry asked, his voice reaching a higher octave by the last word.

           “Not…really,” Draco said, although it sounded more like a question.

           “Come on, Andromeda likes bracelets,” Harry said. He grabbed Draco’s arm and led him further into the store.

           They stopped at the holiday-special section and went over to the bracelets and rings. Draco’s eyes automatically fell on the sterling silver and emerald wristwatches.

           “Woah,” he said. “That’s…a lot of money.”

           “Yeah,” Harry replied. “You saved up, though. Right?”

           “Yeah. This is all on sale, right?”

           “Yes,” Harry said. Somehow, in a shop with Draco Malfoy, helping him pick out presents for Andromeda Tonks nee Black, the weirdest part was Draco being poor.

           “How about this?” Draco asked Harry. He was holding a sterling silver charm bracelet that held three charms: a heart, an owl, and a snowman. Each of the charms was embroidered with diamonds.

           “That’s beautiful,” Harry replied sincerely.

           “Do they sell more charms here? I’d like to buy—actually. Never mind.” Draco dropped his voice. “I bet that I can find some wizarding charms in Diagon Alley.”

           Harry smiled and said, “Probably.”

           They moved on to find Pansy Parkinson’s gift.

           “I want to get her a matching necklace and earring set,” Draco informed him. “Ironically, she’s not really a snake person. She likes unicorns. I think that she fell in love with thwem after our Care for Magical Creatures classes…”

           “I thought she hated Hagrid,” Harry questioned, peering through the glass caressing around the earrings.

           “Eh. I think that Pansy’s neutral about most things.” Draco turned to the sales assistant and pointed to tear-drop shaped, diamond earrings. “Can I view those?” He observed the earrings for a few minutes, then asked, “Is there a matching necklace?’

           The sales assistant nodded.

           “Lovely,” Draco said. “What do you think?” he asked Harry.

           “Unicorns are a tad bit childish, anyways,” Harry replied.

           They moved to the checkout line.

           “Hey, shouldn’t you buy a present for your mother?” Harry asked.

           Draco sighed deeply.

           “ _I’m_ buying her something,” Harry said.

           Draco pursed his lips.

           “Draco—“

           “Potter, stay out of it.”

           “You can’t just do that, y’know. You can’t call me ‘Potter’ every time you’re pissed.”

           “Let’s not fight in the middle of Tiffany’s.”

           Draco paid for the jewelry and they went back to the car. They didn’t talk until the car was in front of Toys-R-Us.

           “What are you thinking of buying for him?” Draco asked.

           “Uh, muggle wise, Legos, a sand box, a train set, a Leap Frog, and maybe a small, mechanical truck.”

           “Um, what?” Draco seemed a tad bit flabbergasted.

           “You?” Harry asked.

           “I was considering a tool set.”

           “That sounds great!”

           “It’s not… a lot.”

           “So?” Harry asked.

           “I hate being poor,” Draco said.

           Harry rolled his eyes, “Let’s just go.”

           They spent approximately two and a half hours shopping for Teddy, then they decided to go for lunch.

           “I can’t believe that I’m spending my entire day with Draco Malfoy,” Harry said once in the car.

           “Hey, I’m amazing. Anyways, I’m starving. Let’s grab a cheeky Nando’s.”

           “ _What_?”

           “Let’s eat at Nando’s.”

           “Draco,” Harry said. “You sound like one of those Americans that wants to speak like a British person.” He did an impression of an American doing a crappy “British” accent for the last part of the sentence.

           Draco rolled his eyes.

 

           After they ate, they sat in the car for a few minutes.

           “So, what’s the plan for the rest of the day?” Draco asked.

           “Um,” Harry said. “I still have Andromeda and Ron and Hermione and everyone else…Do you want to do wizarding shopping or muggle shopping first?”

           “Let’s save the headache for later and do muggle shopping first,” Draco replied.

           They shopped around for a few hours. Harry found Andromeda a cashmere sweater and expensive sweets. He got Ron a strawberry cheesecake and some classic muggle movies—Star Wars, Lord of the Rings, and Back to the Future. He got Hermione a few chemistry books and a scarf.

           “Do you have anyone else left?” Draco asked at 3 PM.

           “Luna and Neville,” Harry said. “But I wanna get them stuff from the wizarding world.”

           Draco sighed and said, “Okay, let’s go.”

           The men apparated to Diagon Alley and went to Gringotts to convert their money.

           “Y’know,” Harry said. “I couldn’t access the bank for a few months after the war. Teir policy against thieves apparently included me.”

           “How did you get out of that one?” Draco questioned.

           “Eh, I’m Harry Potter.”

           Draco laughed, and then so did Harry. It felt nice to joke around.

           After they extracted their Galleons, Harry and Draco stopped by Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes. Harry briefly wondered what Fred would think of him hanging oiut with Draco Malfoy and if he’d be proud of Harry’s forgiveness. He put the thought aside.

           They walked into the store and were immediately greeted by George.

           “Why, if it isn’t the Bi Who Lived! How are you; how are you?” the red-head joked, shaking Harry’s hand intensely.

           “I’m great! And you?” Harry chuckled, ignoring the joke. 

           “I am fine. What brings you here?”

           “Christmas shopping.”

           “Ooh, fun!” George replied. He stopped and glanced at Draco. “And who is this with you?”

           “Draco. Draco Malfoy,” Harry replied.

           Draco smiled.

           “Malfoy?” George asked.

           “I know…”

           “I didn’t realize that you two were so close,” George said, raising an eyebrow.

           “We’re not. I mean, we are but—“

           George laughed, “Everything here is half off for both of you.”     

           “George.”

           “No, really, Harry. It is,” George confirmed before walking off to help another customer.

           “So, what are we going to buy here?” Draco asked.

           “Well, Ginny wanted some Pygmy Puffs.”

           They spent two hours in the joke shop and then three more hours in Diagon Alley. It was about 9 PM when they departed for dinner.

 

           On December 16th, Harry found himself shopping alone. School had let out days before and Harry was rather bored without the necessary studying and working. There was also the fact that he needed to purchase gifts for Professor Flitwick, Headmistress McGonagall, Professor, Sprout, Seamus, Dean, Ernie, Cho, and most of the Weasleys. He left after breakfast and traveled to London. He was ready for major Christmas shopping and, in fact, didn’t plan to come home before he was done.

           First, he visited a store that was known to carry supplies specifically for teachers. It was one of his favorite places. He bought Flitwick a “World’s Greatest Teacher” coffee cup and some expensive tea bags. He bought McGonagall some high-class pens, a book on Latin and Greek roots for the English language, and a gold necklace with a witch hat. He bought Sprout several different breeds of muggle flowers. When he passed by an astronomy store, he knew that he had to buy something for Trelawney and Firenze.

           After that, he went around all the shops that he could think of. He bought Dean and Seamus matching ugly Christmas jumpers. The two were dating now and they loved stuff like that. He got Ernie a red and gold tie and Cho some aquamarine earrings.

           The Weasleys were the hardest and that was because they were truly his family. After an hour, he bought some baby stuff from Carter’s for Bill and Fleur. They had announced a week before that they were expecting. He got George and Angelina a box of Dove chocolate. For Charlie, Harry purchased some movies about dragons. Finally, he got a small china set for Percy.    Yet, when Harry stepped out of Diagon Alley after buying every one’s wizarding presents, he felt like he’d forgotten something.

           It took him only ten minutes to remember whom he was missing.


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13 TW/CW food, Christmas, holidays, insomnia, panic attacks, therapists, repetition, pda, alcohol, violence (possibly?), cigarettes, death m, war m, nightmares m, self-harm m, drugs m, ableism, internalized ableism, ableist slurs, kissing

Over the past two days, the snow had evened out and it was now safe to travel on the muggle roads. Harry and Andromeda had taken the opportunity to go grocery shopping. Andromeda took holidays very seriously, if Halloween and November 5th weren't enough of examples. She insisted on making several types of fudges, cookies, pies, and cakes. Along with that, she promised Teddy that they would make a gingerbread house. In comparison with the presents that she bought Teddy, Harry's pile looked like pebbles.

So, it was 10 PM on the 18th of December and Harry and Andromeda were making peanut butter fudge. He was buttering the pan and gathering the second set of ingredients while Andromeda was quickly stirring the nearly-boiled first set.

"Andromeda," Harry spoke up. "How many batches do we _need_?"

"Two peanut butter, two chocolate, two white chocolate and peanut butter."

Harry groaned. They had been working on it since 6 PM and had so far finished both chocolate batches.

"And these are _all_ for the party?" he asked.

"Yes. _Only_ for the party."

Harry groaned at this also. He wasn't too excited for the party. This wasn't because he didn't want to see everyone, but rather because it had been his responsibility to send out invitations and then "thank you" cards. He didn't mind too much because Andromeda had handled the decorations, but he felt that he had done so much work that Christmas was already over.

Over the next five days, they finished the fudge, the cookies (sugar, red velvet, and chocolate chip), the pies (mince, cherry, and chocolate), and the cakes (vanilla and marble). Harry could not foresee looking at another pastry. But it was the day before the party (Christmas Eve Eve) and he was up at 4 AM so that he could start on the dinner.

Of course, he wasn't only up for that. Like normal, he couldn't sleep.

He walked to the kitchen after getting his much needed coffee and cigarette.

As he got out the ingredients for stuffing, macaroni and cheese, green beans, peas, and corn, he could feel the day droning on and on. His work continued until 1 PM when he forced himself to take a nap.

The sky was dark and the atmosphere was cold. Not a star was in sight and it appeared to be either a New Moon kind of evening or extremely cloudy. When Harry lied down, it was clearly afternoon. Surely he hadn't slept until the late evening? He rolled over on his side and checked his alarm clock.

"Of course," he muttered. "I forgot to set the alarm. Wait, it's _2 AM?_ What the _fuck_?"

Harry jumped out of bed and ran to the kitchen. Had the ham and turkey burnt? Merlin, Harry couldn't even remember if he ended up putting them in the oven. When he arrived in the kitchen, he found that both pieces of meat were simmering and that there was a note taped to the stove.

"Harry, I didn't want to wake you. I know that you haven't slept well lately, so I let you sleep pretty long. I went ahead and put the turkey in the oven and the ham in the Crock Pot. They should both be done by 8 this morning—don't worry, I've set my alarm and _I_ will take them out. I want you to rest.

Love, Andromeda"

[AN*: major trigger warning for panic attack and repetition] Harry folded up the note and wiped away a tear. His throat began to contract and he felt as if a train was using his chest as its track. He knew what this was. His therapist had given him instructions for what to do for panic attacks. But, at this time, Harry couldn't concentrate on where he was—let alone counting to four.

One moment, he was back at Hogwarts and facing Voldemort. Then, he was in Andromeda's kitchen. Then, he was in the Dursleys' kitchen.

How could he let Andromeda down? How could he forget something so important?

How could he let them down? How could he just let them die? Fred and Colin and Tonks and Remus and Moody and—

How?

How did he forget the turkey? This was an important dinner. How could he just ruin it? How? How?

Why did he always ruin everything?

Why couldn't he just make someone proud?

Harry felt somewhat ashamed to admit that he had spent the past three hours hyperventilating and having a break down, but he wrote a letter to his therapist about it anyways. He read for a little bit to calm himself down. By the time that Andromeda woke up, his palms were still sweaty.

He smiled at her like nothing had happened. God, he was tired of pretending like nothing had happened. Why couldn't—

No. He wasn't going to do this again.

Andromeda made sure to handle all the food, but Harry didn't feel useless.

"There's still much to do," she said.

While he waited for Teddy to wake up, he vacuumed and mopped the floors, dusted, wiped the counters, and cleaned all the expensive china that they'd use. Teddy woke up crying—something about a nightmare about Ursula from the Little Mermaid. Harry ran to his room and scooped him up. He could, after all, relate to the toddler.

"Hey, little buddy. What's wrong?" Harry cooed.

"It-It. _J'ai peur!_ [I'm scared!] I don't wanna! I don't wanna!" Teddy clung to Harry's clothes and started babbling out a mix of French and English words. Harry couldn't understand him, so he started to sing "Twinkle Twinkle Little Star."

The toddler laughed, "'Awwy, you soun' bad."

Harry pretended to pout. He knew that he couldn't sing, but he loved singing to Teddy anyways.

"I'm jus' kiddin'," Teddy responded.

Harry chuckled, "No, no, no. I know that I can't sing. You know what I _can_ do, though?"

" _Que_? [What?]"

"This!" Harry started to tickle Teddy and the toddler was guffawing. A few minutes later, Harry stopped and kissed Teddy on the head.

"C'mon," Harry said. "Time to bath."

"Nooo!" Teddy quealed.

When Harry walked through the kitchen on his way to the bathroom, he saw a grin play on Andromeda's face.

Teddy was all dressed up in his little suit and tie. It was strange because the toddler didn't mind; in fact, he felt just the opposite: he loved dressing up and he loved the attention that it would entail. And much attention would he get. Harry spent an hour designing the seating at the tables. Finally, he set Andromeda, Narcissa, Molly, Arthur, Bill, Fleur, Charlie, and Hermione's parents at one table. At the other table, he set himself, Ron, Hermione, Ginny, Luna, Neville, Draco, Dean, Seamus, George, and Angelina. He considered splitting the tables up evenly, but he didn't know who he'd leave out.

So, three table-enlarging spells, twenty sets of silverware, forty napkins, and twenty chairs later, Harry was tired. It didn't help that he realized that he'd forgotten Teddy.

"Andromeda," Harry called. "Which table should Teddy sit at?"

"Which one has an odd number of people?" she asked in return.

"Both."

He waited a minute before she responded, "The one with less people, then."

The party was scheduled for 3 PM in order to ensure gift-opening and socializing. With only five hours left, Andromeda and Harry were in a rush.

Andromeda burned the first dozen of the rolls and said, "Haste makes waste."

But Harry couldn't see how they'd slow down. He had to fold the napkins into tiny animals, organize the presents, handle Teddy, put the food in the fridge, and then worry about what he was going to wear. While he prepared everything for the party, Harry thought about his wardrobe.

"Andromeda, do I look okay?" Harry asked. He was dressed in a light gold jumper, his Gryffindor scarf, and blue jeans.

"Yes, you look lovely," she said. She was dressed in a floral dress, which Harry thought ironically resembled springtime.

It was an hour before party time. Harry did some last minute touches on the napkins and presents. He couldn't help but feel restless and he was sure that it had something to do with the thought of having everyone over.

At 2:40, the door started to sing. Harry wasn't sure why Andromeda charmed it to sing only for Halloween and Christmas, but he supposed that it didn't matter that much. He let Narcissa in and the door stopped its "Jingle Bells" solo.

It was always great to have Narcissa come early because she liked to make herself busy. The first few times that she visited, Harry wondered why she helped out. After all, she'd lived her entire life with house elves at her disposal. As of late, however, Harry's come to the realization that Narcissa was now working as a waitress at a muggle restaurant. Like Harry, she used work to distract herself from her grief.

" _Bonjour_ , [Hello,] Narcissa," he said. " _Comment_ ç _a va?_ [How are you?]"

" _Ca va, et tu?_ [Well, and you?]"

" _Comme ci, comme_ ç _a._ [So-so.]"

" _Je comprends. Est-ce que tu aimes_ Noël _?_ [I understand. Do you like Christmas?]"

"Oh, _oui_. Do you need help carrying the presents in?"

"I've got it. _Merci_ , though. I'll get them after I see my sister."

A couple minutes later, the door sang again. Ron, Hermione, and the Grangers entered. Soon enough, everyone had filed through the door. Harry went over to greet Ginny and Luna.

"Harry, I am so sorry. I didn't think that our conv—" Ginny started to ramble.

"Hey, hey. It's okay. You didn't know. It was almost two months ago, anyways," he interrupted.

"How are you, Harry?" Luna said with her sing-song voice.

"I'm fine, and you?" he replied.

"I'm okay. You're sweating. Are you sure you don't need some water?"

"I'm fine," he repeated.

Their conversation continued for another twenty minutes until Andromeda announced that it was time to open presents. They all gathered in the living room. Harry noticed that Draco was dressed in a light blue shirt that complimented his eyes.

By the time half the presents were opened, almost everyone had received what Harry had gotten them. The only gifts that Harry had left to hand out were the ones for Narcissa and Draco.

"Okay, who's next?" Andromeda asked.

Draco opened his mouth and then closed it. Andromeda looked at him and Harry thought that they were somehow silently communicating. Draco seemed hesitant.

"I, um, I have presents for everyone," he said.

Harry was a little shocked: didn't he only shop for Andromeda, Teddy, and Pansy Parkinson?

Draco handed the presents out, and not one person was left out—not even Narcissa. Harry held his gift that looked to be wrapped in the muggle way. Everyone else's were in bags. They all opened their presents.

Harry's was a thick scarf, but it was unlike his Gryffindor scarf. While his Gryffindor scarf was striped and partly scratchy, this scarf had green and red swirls and was made up of soft, rich fabric.

"I thought that, um," Draco mumbled to Harry. "It resembles both Gryffindor red and your eye color's green. I thought that it would—"

Draco was cut off by Harry's sudden hug. With a wide grin, Harr pulled away and gave Draco a silver box.

"I got you a present," Harry said. "Happy Christmas, Draco."

The blond carefully took off the wrapping paper and ribbon. In the box, there was a sterling silver and white gold watch whose hands had alexandrite on them.

"Wow, this much have been—" Draco started.

"It was no problem. I wanted to get you something nice. Besides, if you have a watch, we might not be late for class anymore," Harry joked.

"Harry, thank you so much."

They hugged again and everyone finished their gift-giving.

Dinner was starting and Harry was very excited. Ever since seeing his old school friends, he was happy to spend time with people. He saw the joy on their faces when receiving their gifts and realized that giving _was_ better than getting.

Harry and Andromeda heated up all the food and set out the buffet. Everyone lined up and Harry got in the back of the line, near the door. At that time, Draco and his mother came through the door and obviously were in the middle of arguing.

" _Mother_ ," Draco hissed. "Stop treating me like a baby."

"You are _not_ sitting at a table with alcohol at it," Narcissa whispered in reply.

"Why not?" he retaliated.

"You know why."

"I can handle _myself_."

"Draco."

"I'm not your child anymore!"

"Draco Lucius Abraxas Mal-"

" _Mother_."

"Fine, do as you want," she whispered before walking away.

Draco got in line behind Harry, but he wouldn't make eye contact.

"You're wearing your watch," Harry attempted to make conversation.

"You're wearing your scarf," Draco responded.

"Oh, yeah. I exchanged scarves a few minutes ago."

Draco nodded.

"Hey," Harry said. "She'll come around. I believe that you'll stay sober. You're strong." He smiled in reassurance.

Draco bit his lip, "Thanks."

The temperature had dropped drastically by 11 PM. Many attendants of Harry and Andromeda's party had left, but some were still present.

"Tedy, you _have_ to get to bed," Harry insisted, kneeling down to the toddler's eye level.

"Noo! _Je veux_ [I want to] stay up!" Teddy screamed back. He got grumpy when he was tired.

"C'mon, little man. We can play tomorrow," Ron piped up. Teddy absolutely _adored_ him. So, when he started kicking and screaming, they knew that he was exhausted.

"Teddy!" Harry called out. "Do you want to go to bed or do you want a time out?"

"'Arry!"

" _No._ Bed or time out?"

"That's not fair!"

"Come on," Harry picked the screaming child up and marched him to his bedroom. He came back promptly after setting the toddler down.

"Gee, tough crowd," Harry joked.

"Kids are cute for about five minutes," Ron stated.

"Ronald!" Hermione reprimanded the ginger. "He's just tired."

"I was _joking_ ," he protested.

"So, how's life?" Harry asked them.

"I'm almost done with auror training!" Ron announced. "All I need now is the practical internships. I'm completely finished with all the theoretical stuff. I even passed the exams with flying colors!"

Harry smiled as his best friends spoke about their careers and studies and, well, lives. At some point, he felt a spark of envy. Then, he felt guilty. It wasn't their fault that he didn't know what to do. He was tired of feeling confused. What did he want to do for the rest of his life?

Hermione and Ron left an hour later and Harry was pretty relieved. He had needed a cigarette very badly. When he stepped out onto the back porch, he yet again found himself smoking with Draco Malfoy.

"Fancy meeting you here," Harry said as he sat next to the blond.

"Hello, how are you?" Draco asked formally.

"I am fine. Why're you so uptight right now?"

"Sorry, just…thinking."

"About?"

"Nothing important."

"Oh."

They sat in silence for a few minutes. It was odd because they hadn't had any truly awkward moments with each other in a month.

Draco finally spoke up, "So, I've made up my mind."

"Hmm?" Harry questioned.

"I'll go to the PTSD meetings with you."

"Really?" Harry's mood picked up.

"Really," Draco confirmed. "I feel like I was…rude…to you."

"When? When I invited you to the meetings?"

"Yes. And I'm sorry about that."

"You don't have to—"

"Yes, I do. I'm tired of fucking up and then not apologizing for "

Harry nodded.

"So," Draco said with an exhale. "I am sorry."

"I forgive you," Harry replied.

"It's…hard for me to be in the wizarding world."

"It's for me, too," Harry related.

"So many people hate me, and the worst part is that I can understand why. So many people died in the war…and so many others have lived, but with scars. It was partially my fault and I know it."

Harry scooted closer to Draco. He wanted to hug him or somehow physically comfort him, but he wouldn't dare do that without consent. So, he settled for words, "Hey, if it means anything, I don't blame you."

Draco smiled. He spoke, "Is that scarf warm?"

"Yeah," Harry replied, confused.

"Well, good," Draco said. "'Cause it's starting to snow again."

Harry looked around and sure enough, small, white flakes were coming down.

"We can stay outside." Harry added, "If you want."

Draco shrugged and didn't move.

"I had a panic attack this morning," Harry admitted.

"Was it bad?" Draco asked.

"Pretty bad. I was having flashbacks and I cried for a few hours."

"Oh, wow." Harry could tell that Draco was trying his best to cover up his pity.

"Yeah. And the scariest part? I can't remember anything else."

"That's how it is for me," Draco informed him. Harry noticed a few snowflakes taking refuge on Draco's eyelashes. Draco continued, "I have a massive freak out or nightmare and I hurt myself or drink or snort something. And then I can't even remember what upset me."

"You wanna know what set me off?"

Draco nodded.

"I took a nap and forgot to put the turkey in the oven. Andromeda did it and left me a note. I woke up at 2 AM to find it and flipped"

"It's because you fucked up your sleeping schedule. I do it all the time,. Yeah, naps keep the insomniac alive, but at what cost?"

Harry laughed and looked at Draco. He obviously wasn't very accustomed to smoking outside in the cold; his cheeks had picked up a heavy, pink blush that faintly covered his nose. It was times like this that Draco's sarcasm didn't irritate Harry.

"When I was a kid," Draco said. "I never talked to other kids and I always had imaginary friends and I kept _everything_ spotless and threw tantrums whenever I got dirty. It got to the point to where my parents took me to a wizard psychiatrist when I was nine. He diagnosed me with OCD, but then my parents pulled me out of therapy because one, Malfoy's aren't mentally ill and, two, I was a kid. _Kids_ aren't mentally ill. So, after the war, I was a little giddy without my parents' everlasting influence. I went to a muggle psych and he diagnosed me with clinical depression and substance abuse. I dunno…after rehab, I've never liked doctors and therapists."

"I can understand," Harry said. He _did_ understand. His therapist's initial diagnosis of PTSD scared him so much that he left the session to go home and cry. Heroes weren't supposed to be crazy, were they?

"I wish that I could do everything over," Draco admitted.

"It's okay," Harry said.

"I was just…so scared."

Harry looked at Draco again. He was caught by his eyes. The snowflakes on his eyelashes and the pink on his face caused the blue in his eyes to pop. The grey speckles only complimented that.

"I…I was being serious, y'know," Harry said.

"Hmm?" Draco asked.

"I don't blame you. I feel like you didn't have a choice."

Draco didn't respond for a few minutes. Then, he shivered and said, "We're going to get hypothermia out here."

Harry laughed, "Probably."

Draco giggled and Harry found himself to be staring at the blond again. He noticed that the cold had caused Draco's lips to swell a little bit. Draco caught his eye and Harry looked away, ashamed to be seen staring.

"What were you doing in the Room of Hidden Things in fifth year?" Draco randomly asked.

"What?" Harry said.

"Sorry, just curious. When Umbridge was at Hogwarts and I caught you and your friends…why did you guys always meet in there?"

"Oh…Well, one, It's called the 'Room of Requirement.' It changes into whatever room you need. So, it was different for us in fifth year than it was for you in sixth. Two, we formed a group so that we could learn Defense Against the Dark Arts."

"Wait, _what_?" Draco questioned.

Harry opened his mouth to speak, but Draco said, "I tried to bust you for a _year_ and you had formed a _study group?!_ "

"It was a…! Yeah, it was a study group…" the realization suddenly dawned on Harry.

"Did Hermione teach it?" Draco asked.

"No, I taught it," Harry stated.

"Oh…"

"What?"

"I never expected you to like teaching."

"Well, I do." A grin spread out on Harry's face. He liked teaching. He repeated, "I do."

"Do you think that it'll still work?" Draco asked.

"What?"

"The Room of Requirement. After the fire…"

"I don't know," Harry answered truthfully. "What are you going to do after university?"

Draco shrugged, "Whatever a person can do with a history degree in the muggle world."

Harry softly chuckled. At least he wasn't the only lost one. He glanced at Draco's face and saw that a piece of hair was stuck in front of his eye. Harry fought the urge to move it.

He wondered why he wanted to touch Draco's face so badly. Then, he realized. Draco's presence was always comforting and Harry could easily tell him anything. He paid special attention to Draco's hair and eyes and lips and clothes. Harry took a deep breath. He had a crush on Draco.

"How are you _now_?" Draco asked.

"Huh?" Harry was drug out of his thoughts.

"Since your panic attack this morning, how are you?" Draco clarified.

"I'm feeling fine," Harry answered.

"That's good."

"But…" Harry trailed off.

"But?" Draco questioned.

Harry made eye contact with him, but his eyes fell down to Draco's lips.

"I…I really want to kiss you right now," Harry admitted.

"Okay," Draco whispered.

"Can I?" Harry swallowed some of his fear.

"I want to kiss you, too. So yes," Draco replied.

They turned their heads to the right a little bit and moved in closer. They paused when they were close enough to breathe the same air. Draco looked up at Harry and they held each others' eyes for a second.


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14 TW/CW kissing, pda, parents, prison m, food, suicide m, torture m, religion

 

           The snow was pouring down at a quicker rate now, and thus the air was growing colder.

           Draco moved his hand up and rested it on Harry’s neck as their kiss became deeper. He didn’t want to stop the moment, but he couldn’t feel his hands anymore from the winter chill. He internally cursed himself for not bringing gloves.

           Slowly, Draco pulled away from the kiss. He rested his forehead against Harry’s, an oddly romantic gesture, and said with a hoarse voice, “We should probably get inside. It’s freezing out here.”

           “Huh? Oh. Oh, yeah,” Harry responded in accord.

           Draco smirked at Harry’s stupor. Both men arose and walked inside.

 

           Harry got an excellent night’s sleep: a total of six and a half hours. It was 9 AM, and he and Andromeda were tidying the house. For the most part, the house was not ransacked, so all they needed to do was clean up the stray wrapping paper and wash the dishes.    

           After lunch, Harry chose to sit in his room and think about the night’s events. It was true: he was concerned about the kiss. Harry really liked Draco, and if he didn’t realize it before the kiss, he definitely realized it after the kiss.

           He pondered the event for nearly half an hour before he joined Andromeda and Teddy in the living room.

            “So I was thinking that we could go out to eat for New Year’s Eve,” Andromeda stated.

            Harry smiled. He was certainly tired after all of the cooking and celebrating. He asked, “Who all is coming?”

            “Me and you and Teddy. Unless you’d like to invite someone else,” Andromeda added, smiling cunningly.

            “Um…I just thought that maybe Draco would like to join us,” Harry said.

            “That would be fine,” Andromeda beamed.

            Harry grinned back, but suddenly worried if Andromeda knew more than she was letting on. He went back to his room, got out a pen and paper, and wrote,

            “Draco,

            Happy Christmas! Andromeda and I really enjoyed having you over last night. Teddy’s up and he’s opened all of his presents. He loves yours; he’s been playing with it all morning. How has your morning been?

            Anyways, I’m writing to you because Andromeda and I are planning on going out to dinner on New Year’s Eve and we’d like to know if you’d want to join us. I’m sure Teddy would _love_ for you to come—you know how much he loves you. I’d especially like for you to come.

            Please write back whenever it’s convenient,

            Harry”

            He sighed, full of anticipation.

            “Here you go, Polonius,” He said to Andromeda’s owl. “Take this to Draco Malfoy.”

           

            Harry waited by the owl window for what seemed like hours. He felt silly. He felt likesome teenage girl waiting for her crush to text her back. He let out another exasperated sigh and moved to get some leftovers out of the fridge.

            After he finished eating, Harry shuffled through his presents and was once more mesmerized by the beauty of the scarf that Draco had gotten him. Surely, that meant that Draco liked him, right? Well, if he didn’t like him, he wouldn’t have kissed him, would he? But what if Draco wasn’t going to write back to him because he regretted the kiss? Harry was starting to panic, but then he saw Polonius flying towards the house.

            Harry took the letter off of the bird’s leg and opened it, viewing the pretty manuscript.

            It read:

            “Harry,

            Happy Christmas to you, too. I hope that the scarf is keeping you warm in this cold weather and snow. I’m glad that Teddy is happy. My morning has been okay—thank you for asking.

            I would love to join you for dinner. It’d be nice to spend time with Andy and Teddy, also. Thank you. Please send me an owl so that I know the time and place.

            Sincerely,

            Draco”

            Harry clutched the letter and reread the first two sentences of the latter paragraph. He felt giddy.

 

            The days passed and New Year’s Eve was upon them before they could comprehend it. It was 5 PM and Harry was awaiting Draco’s 6 PM arrival. He almost wished that the hour could be longer. He was in one of his best dress suits and had checked his appearance in the mirror over a hundred times in the past ten minutes. All the while, Andromeda grinned at him. He didn’t know if she knew or not, but at the moment, he was too worried with impressing Draco to care.

            He felt so silly. He wasn’t worried about impressing Draco before, so why did he have to worry now? The doorbell rang and Harry jumped. He shouted to Andromeda, “I’ll get it!”

            Harry practically ran to the door, but he had to stop before he opened it so that he could catch his breath. He turned the doorknob and let a smiling Draco in.

            “ _Bonjour. Comment_ ç _a va?_ [Hello. How is it going?]” Draco asked. Harry loved when Draco spoke in French because it was obviously his most natural language.

            He blushed and replied, “ _Tr_ é _s bien, et toi?_ [Very well, and you?]”

            “ _Je suis merveilleux maintenant. Tu apparait joli._ [I am marvelous now. You look handsome.]”

            Harry briefly had the childish thought, _I wish I could flirt better_ , but shook it off so that he could reply, “ _Merci. Tu es joli toujours._ [Thank you. You are always handsome.]”

            He saw Draco blush and they approached Andromeda in the kitchen.

            “Oh, Draco, _tr_ é _s bien!_ [Very good!]” she shrieked. “Ça va? [You're doing well?]” She kissed him on the cheek.

            “ _Oui, et toi?_ [Yes, and you?]”

            “Oh, _oui, oui._ _Allons-y!_ [yes, yes. Let’s go!]”

            They travelled with Teddy to Clos Maggiore via cab. It was then that Harry got a good look at Draco. He had a tiny bit of hair gel applied to his blond hair—just enough to hold it out of his face. He was wearing black dress pants and a dark green dress shirt with a trench coat over top of it.

            They arrived at the restaurant and Draco got out first so that he could open everyone’s doors—a pointless but polite gesture. The night continued as they had a thirty minute wait for their reservation due to arriving early. Draco sat right next to Harry, and the latter could practically feel his heart beat up to his Adam’s apple.

            They burned through the menus and the appetizers pretty quickly, and were left with time to talk before the entrées arrived.

            “So, Draco,” Andromeda spoke up, ignoring Teddy’s newest temper tantrum over the color of his sippy cup. “What made you decide on history?”

            “Well,” he responded. “I was always very intrigued with wizarding history because of Professor Binns at Hog-“ Harry practically choked on his drink. Draco turned to him in alarm and asked, “Oh my God, are you okay?”

            “ _Intrigued_ by _Binns_?” Harry asked.

            “Yes, he was quite interesting if you bothered to stay awake,” Draco smirked.

            “Obviously not if he could coax _me_ into a nap,” Harry jokingly retorted.

            Draco rolled his eyes. He continued, “Of course. I was so cut off from information about muggles during the war. I don’t know. I’ve just enjoyed learning about everything.”

            Andromeda nodded understandingly and said, “If you don’t mind me asking, what was going on during the war? Your mother won’t…she doesn’t like to talk about it.”

            Draco bit his lip. He was hesitant. He finally said, “Well, you probably know more about _why_ they started to serve Voldemort than I do. ‘They’ meaning my parents. I think that my father always wanted power and my mother followed him into it. I never thought that I’d say this, but I know more about my father than I do my mother. I don’t know how devoted my father was to Voldemort when he was gone, but I do know that he always practiced dark magic—whether it be that book for the Chamber of Secrets or studying horrendous spells. I didn’t really believe my father about the Dark Lord coming back. I was fourteen and pretty neutral in matters of war. Andy, what was it like for you to grow up?”

            Andromeda responded, “Very confusing to say the least. There’s something very…appealing…about being told you’re better than others. And scary—because obviously not everyone believes it. When I was a kid, it was easy. Bella was the eldest and she undoubtedly held up whatever Mum and Father said. I wanted to follow her footsteps so badly. Cissy is the youngest and perhaps the most introverted. I never knew what _she_ thought, so when Bella said something…intense…I didn’t know how to disagree. When we were all at Hogwarts, we were all in Slytherin, and thus it was easier for us to fall into the myth of blood purity. I believed it for a long time, but then I met Ted. Ted was also a Slytherin and he was marvelous. He refused to put up with any crap. I had begun to question my family’s values before I met him, but he really changed everything.”

            Draco was smiling. He spoke again, “I never questioned my father’s rhetoric at all until I was thirteen. It was at that time that I…I started to question my sexuality. Of course, being a number of _one_ marginalized group says nothing of your social awareness concerning others. So I didn’t really think that hard about things. Then Voldemort came back. I thought that I could finally choose a side once the Minister alerted the public, but that didn’t happen…”

            Draco chanced a glance at Harry and both men smiled.

            “Damn the man,” Harry joked.

            “Damn the man. Damn the man!” Teddy started singing.

            “Teddy, _no!_ ” Andromeda scolded him. “ _Tu ne peux pas le dire. Ce mot est mauvais_. [You cannot say it. That word is bad.]”

            Draco laughed a little. He continued, “My father’s going to Azkaban and Voldemort moving Death Eaters into our home really changed everything. I grew depressed and terrified, but Mother always assured me that everything would benefit me. That all _this_ was for me.” His voice broke at “this.” He took a sip of his water. “My father and _Bellatrix_ …” he said the name with contempt and wrinkled up his nose. “They frightened me, but in different ways. My father was a proud man and Azkaban broke him. He wanted power and he got Hell. Bellatrix reminded me of Lilith from old religious stories. She faithfully and chaotically followed the Devil and _crucio-ed_ whomever got in her way—her friends, her husband, her sister, her nephew. It didn’t matter. When I turned sixteen, Voldemort gave me a mission: kill Albus Dumbledore. I didn’t want the Dark Mark and I _knew_ that I couldn’t do it. I took the offer anyways. Mother didn’t want me to: she was so scared that I’d die and asked me if that’s what I wanted…”

            “I suppose it didn’t help that you told her that,” Andromeda said solemnly.        

            “Nor that I attempted suicide. Nor that I told her that I’m homosexual. Oh well, she’ll get over it…”

            “Your mother was exiled, yes?” Andromeda asked.

            “Yes.”

            “What was your father’s sentence for Azkaban?”

            “Thirty years to life.”

            “That’s…a broad sentence.”

            “Yes, well, he’s forty-five now.”

            “But he’d be seventy-five…”

            “Malfoys don’t live that long. We tend to have health problems.”          

            “What was your sentence?” Harry blurted out.

            “One month in Azkaban and ten years probation,” Draco answered.

            “What…what does the probation consist of?”

            Draco sighed, “Confinement to the country, twenty hours community service per year, atleast part-time employment, weekly check-ins with an officer and an auror, monthly therapy, my wand is checked…all that…”

            “Oh, wow,” Harry replied.

 

            Andromeda came back to the table after her smoke break. It was her turn to watch Teddy and Harry and Draco’s turn to smoke. The two men walked outdoors and stood by the wall on the side of the building. It was pretty late, so they were the only ones out there.

            They stood in silence and threw their cigarette butts away. Harry was ready to go back indoors when Draco pointed up and said, “Mistletoe.”

            “Hmm?” Harry asked.

            “We’re standing under a mistletoe,” Draco clarified.

            “Oh…” Harry said. He felt a little awkward because he wasn’t sure what was supposed to happen next.

            “Do you want to…?” Draco asked.

            Harry nodded and they both leaned in. Their lips touched and they slowly moved them together. It was gentle and perfect. Harry moved his chest to where it touched Draco’s and pushed the latter back against the wall. Draco deepened the kiss. His lips parted and he began to suck on Harry’s lower lip. They both moved apart and then back together again. Their tongues softly touched and Harry felt like he could stay there forever. Then the door to the restaurant opened and the men moved apart. Harry’s glasses were fogged.

           

            It was 11:50 PM according to the television that Harry, Draco, and Andromeda were watching, a recent addition to Andromeda's house. They were waiting for the ball to drop in NYC—which was silly because they weren’t Americans and it was actually 4:50 AM where they were. But Harry didn’t care.

            The minutes slowly ticked away until they were chanting “10, 9, 8,…” When the "1" sounded, they witnessed the ball land and all of the couples on TV kiss. Harry and Draco shared a somewhat innocent smile.

 

 


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15 TW/CW kissing/pda m (do I have to tag these anymore?), bullying m, torture m, war m, starvation m, religion/Satan m

           

            The snow had lightened some in the past two weeks, but the temperature was still steadily below freezing. It was the fourteenth of January, and Harry had been back in school for nearly a week. His second semester had a harder course load, but better teachers. He had signed up perfectly so that he could be home by 5 PM every day. Plus, he had Economics 1 with Draco at 9 AM on Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays.

            He really liked Draco, but he wasn’t sure exactly _what_ their relationship was about. They had written each other often and had even developed inside jokes. As far as Harry knew, this made them at least friends. Yet also as far as Harry knew, friends didn’t really kiss. So was this thing with Draco platonic or romantic or something else all together?

            Harry went back over some of their letters and recalled the first one, from Draco:

            “Dear Harry,

            I had a fantastic time last night and I am truly exhausted. Thank you so much for inviting me to dinner.

            I hope to hear from you. Take care.

            Sincerely,

            Draco

            P.S. Don’t spill the fizzing whizbees”

            Harry snickered at the joke entailed in the last line. He looked at Draco’s second letter.

            “Harry,

            That’s amazing—and terrifying. How many gnomes did Andy find in her garden exactly? I think that she amay’ve set a world record.

            I’m doing well, by the way. How are you? Are you ready for your new classes? What’s your schedule?I’m pretty excited for the semester Do you have any plans for the rest of break?

            Sincerely,

            Draco”

            Harry did not, in fact, have any plans, so he hung out with Draco a little bit. They went to Diagon Alley—fully disguised under the invisibility cloak. For the most part, they people-watched. No one noticed them for a long time. Tat is to say, until one little boy spilled his entire cauldron of fizzing whizbees and Harry and Draco lost it. Their wild laughter concerned everyone in the street because no one could identify the source. By the time they apparatd away, they were wheezing.

            “Oh-oh my God.”

            “Did you _see_?”

            “H-he _actually_ sp-spilled the fi—“

            “Holy shit.”

            There was slight disappointment after Harry departed eu to the fact that the kiss was never discussed. Harry almost didn’t mind because he really had enjoyed spending time with Draco.    

            He pulled himself back to the present and kept reading the letters. It was 8 AM and he really needed to get to class.

            Harry walked to the muggle bus stop closest to the house. He arrived at the University of Manchester fairly quickly, so he went to the nearest Starbucks for a coffee. It was there that he saw a familiar face.

            “Hey, Draco. What’s up?” Harry said.

            Draco smiled and turned around to face Harry, “Prepping for econ with caffeine. _Et tu_ [And you]?”

            “Same here.”

            “You wanna walk to class together?” Draco asked.

            “Sure.”

            Harry bought his coffee and he and Draco departed for class.

            “So,” Draco said. “What do you think of the professor’s reasoning behind the claim that American _laissez-faire_ econ-politics are different than that of Europe?”

            “Umm…I didn’t understand a _word_ that you just said.”

            “Why did you take economics then?”

            “It’s required, isn’t it?” 

            “Oh, yeah,” Draco replied. “Do you know what you’re going to major in yet?”

            “Eh. Not really. What’re you gonna do after uni?”        

            “Probably be a biographical editor.”     

            “Oh, cool.”

            “Yeah, I suppose that it is.”

            The silence that followed was enough to make Harry wonder why they hadn’t discussed the isses yet.

            He attempted, “Hey, Draco.”

            “Yeah?”

            “Uh—um. Well…never mind.”

            “You sure?”

            “Yeah.

            “Okay,” Draco said. And that was that. And that only made Harry like Draco more: because he knew when to drop something.

            They continued their walk to class in silence. It was a five minute wait before the professor walked in and called out, “Okay, who can tell me _why_ the world economic policy switched from _laissez-faire_ , to Keynesianism? Hint: it was a process between the 1890s and the 1940s.”

           

            Harry was growing impatient. It had been a week since he almost brought up the kisses to Draco and they still hadn’t talked about it. What annoyed Harry the most was his sudden lack of bravery. He’d had three classes with Draco since last Friday and he _still_ couldn’t manage to talk to him about their friendship or relationship or whatever it was that they had.

He was walking home after his Art History 101 class, but he wasn’t focusing on the travel. He’d checked his watch every few seconds, but sit still said a few minutes past 4. Why was time going so slowly?

            Someone grabbed his arm and he looked up. Draco was smiling at him.

            “Hey, you. Didn’t you hear me call your name?” the blond asked,

            “No, sorry. I was-uh. Thinking of a funny joke. Wanna hear it?”

            “Uh, sure,” Draco said, skeptically.

            “How do you make time fly?”

            “I don’t know. How?”

            “You throw a clock out the window.”

            It wasn’t funny and Draco didn’t laugh.

            He replied, “That sucked.”

            Harry laughed, “I know. I just…needed an ice-breaker. I need to talk to you.”

            “Oh, um. Okay,” Draco said. “Is it urgent?”

            “I’ve been meaning to bring it up to you for a while.”

            “Oh. Is it about the…you know…the kiss?”

            “Yeah…” Harry admitted.

            “Where do you want to talk?” Draco asked.

            “Uh…how about over there?” Harry pointed to a gazebo.

            “Okay.”

            They walked towards the gazebo and sat down under it.

            “Y’know, this is the place where we really first talked,” Draco said in a tone that made the fact sound like common sense, but not common knowledge—like the differences between Inferi and ghosts.

            Harry inhaled. He did his breathing exercises. “My therapist is going to be really proud of me for talking about my feelings. So I’m going to be straight-forward: I like you…in a, y’know, romantic way. I was wondering if you felt the same and what those kisses meant to you.”

            Draco waited a few seconds before talking, as if he was turning over the possible answers and outcomes in his head. He seemed to script a sufficient response because he nodded to himself and replied, “I like you in a romantic way, too. I really wanted to kiss you…both times. But…I feel like…getting romantically involved would not be our best…option.”

            “Can I ask why?” Harry swallowed.

            “Well, a few reasons…I think that given our history in Hogwarts, we always had a rocky…we were always…well, we bullied each other. There’s also the matter of our places in the war: I was a Death Eater and you were ‘the Chosen One.’ Also, our…our friends—well, your friends. I don’t really… Lastly, the press would flip shit.”

            “Well, I’m glad the list is so short,” Harry joked.

            “ _Harry_.”

            “I know. Addressing all of these respectively, Draco, we’re different people now than we were during Hogwarts. Yeah, we basically hated each other, but that doesn’t mean we do now. It also doesn’t mean that our relationship now will be unhealthy. _Christ_ , Draco, we were children then.”

            “’Children’ makes mistakes, too. And their decisions are just as significant.”

            “I know. Merlin, I know. Have you ever noticed how sometimes I’m a hypocrite? I _hate_ it.”

            “I think that we’re all hypocrites sometimes.”

            “Yeah…”

            “I realize that our choices during Hogwarts may not fully impact how we interact with one another now, but I said some disgusting things.”

            “Are you sorry” Harry asked.

            “What?”

            “Do you feel sorry?”

            “Yes, of course.”

            “Then that’s that.”

            “Harry—“

            “That’s that.”

            “You’re too forgiving.”

            “Is that a bad thing?”

            “Sometimes,” Draco retorted.

            Harry sighed, “And with the war…”     

Draco shook his head.

“What?” Harry asked.

“Am I just gonna express remorse and you’ll propose your love for me?”

“Huh?”

“It’s not that easy. I tortured people. I tormented people. Imprisoned them. Starved them. I—it’s—“

“Wait, so you defended yourself before, but now you’re Satan?”

“No! I just think that you’re forgiving me too easily.”    

“Draco, I’ve seen you interact with muggles, with your ‘blood-traitor’ aunt, with your werewolf cousin, with Hermione and Ron and _me_ , I’m not forgiving you because you say you’ve changed. I’m forgiving you because I’ve _seen_ the change.”

“Thank you…” Draco said after a prolonged silence.

“As for my friends, _damn it_ , Draco, they _like_ you. _Arthur Weasley_ likes you. You’re very amiable.”

Draco bit the inside of his cheek. Harry could tell that he was trying not to tear up. He reached over and touched the blond’s arm in reassurance.

“Besides,” Harry said. “ _I_ like you, and if they have a problem with it, they’ll have to deal with it.”  
            Draco cleared his throat, “And the press?”

“I really don’t give a fuck about the press.”

Draco smiled in response. They waited a few minutes before speaking again, absorbing the words already spoken.

Finally, Harry asked, “So, what now?”

“What do you mean?” Draco replied.

“Not to be cliché, but what are we?”

“No clue. I think that I know what’s next, though.”

“What?”

“A date,” Draco contested.


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter 16 TW/CW ableist slurs, prison m, capital punishment m, drugs m, food m

 

Harry and Draco had spoken since their initial conversation concerning their relationship. They had set up a date for 28 January at 5:30 PM at Olive Garden.

Both men had awaited this day with anticipation, yet for different reasons. Harry was worried that this one date could make or break their relationship—a gross oversimplification. Draco was worried that Harry would finally learn just how evil he really was—some unfair self-deprecation.

So, at 4:30 PM, when Harry had arrived home, he ran straight to his room and changed. He put on some kakis, a mint green dress shirt, and a silver-black striped tie. With a sigh, Harry stepped out of his room and into the living room.

            He was about to slip on his coat when he heard Andromeda say, “Harry, black shoes, black tie, and brown belt? Shoes, tie, and belt _have_ to match.”

Harry smiled and said, “Thank you, Andromeda.”

            He changed his belt and walked out the door, but heard Andromeda call out, “Now, go woo my nephew.”

He got to the restaurant at 5:15, but waited outside for Draco. Five minutes later, the blond arrived. His hair was slightly gelled and he was wearing a light blue button-up shirt and dress pants. The colors complimented his eyes, but he looked extremely cold.

“Hey, Harry,” Draco said, shivering.

“Did you forget a coat?” Harry asked.

“Yes,” Draco sighed. “I’m an idiot. It’s January and I _forgot_.”

“Have mine,” Harry offered, slipping his coat off and handing it over.

Draco blushed and put the coat on. They made their way inside.

“Potter, table for two,” Harry informed the host.

They were led to a booth. The waiter retreated after two coffees were ordered.

“So…” Harry began. “What’s up?”

They both burst out laughing.

“Oh, God. This is gonna be so awkward,” Harry added.

“Hey, at least we don’t have any fizzing whizbees to spill,” Draco declared.

They laughed again, but a short silence was ensured afterwards.

“So…what do you think of econ?” Draco asked.

“Math _and_ sociology _and_ history _and_ politics? I hate it.”

“Um, _excuse_ you. Think it might be one of my favorites,” Draco faked defensiveness.

“Ugh. What courses do you have now?” Harry asked.

“English 120, Calc 200, World History 112, Euro History, Econ, PoliSci, Physics, and Spanish.”

“That sounds fun.”

“Oh, totally. What do you have?”

“World History, Geometry and Trig, Bio, French Ab, Econ, Philosophy, Sociology, and Art History.”

“So, slack classes.”

“Um, no. _Electives_ to help me decide my _major_ ,” Harry joked.

“Ooh, okay. I see the difference,” Draco sarcastically retorted.

They grew silent again.

“I didn’t think it’d be this hard to talk,” Harry admitted.

“Well, I hear that first dates are always like this,” Draco replied.

The waiter arrived with their drinks and took their orders. When he left, Draco asked, “So, what had the Boy Who Lived been up to before university?”

“Oh, y’know. A bit o’ this and a bit o’ that,” Harry countered.

Draco smiled, then said, “No, really?”

“Um…not much. I lived alone for a while and then I moved in with Andromeda and Teddy. I just…relaxed.”

Draco’s smile grew. He acknowledged, “That sounds nice. Like something you needed.”

“Yeah,” Harry affirmed. “What about you?”

“Just havin’ fun. Azkaban and parole, y’know.”

“I’m sorry,” Harry quickly proclaimed.

Draco shrugged, “Why?”

“I don’t think that you should have been in Azkaban at all.”

“It’s not like you could have helped that,” Draco offered. “You testified at my trial, didn’t you?”

“Yeah, but…it’s a creepy place.”

“Yes, it is. I don’t understand how people complain about American capital punishment when we have Dementors as prison guards.”

They quieted at Draco’s statement.

“So, heard any good jokes lately?” Draco mocked.

“Actually, I have. What do you call an ocean that sells drugs?”

“What?”

“A pharma _sea_.”

The night continued like that: a mixture of serious conversation, awkwardness, and puns. Harry loved it.

By 7:30, Harry had learned that Draco’s favorite book was _Les Miserables_ , his favorite TV show was _The X-Files_ , and that his favorite part of history was the American counterculture in the 1950s. He told Draco that he mainly read and that he loved political novels such as _1984_ , _Catch-22_ , and _Brave New World_. Draco commented that this was ironic because Harry hated politics. They both laughed.

It was now 9 PM and they had just finished a run to Starbucks. Harry was walking Draco home.

“So did you have fun?” Draco asked, his hands in his pockets. His hair was gradually becoming un-gelled and was slipping into his eyes. Once more, Harry fought the urge to move it.

“I did,” Harry answered. He smiled and batted his eyelashes—trying to flirt. He laughed aloud at the thought.

“What?” Draco giggled.

“I am a terrible flirt.”

“Yeah,” the blond agreed.

“Do you wanna do this again sometime?” Harry questioned.

“Sure. Do you want to see a movie?”

“Why not? I hear _Star Wars_ is coming out with a sequel prequel.”

“Sounds fun.”

They had arrived at the location of Draco’s apartment.

Draco was about to go inside when Harry jokingly said, “What, no good-night kiss?”

Draco turned around, smiling. He said, “Do you want to?”

Harry smiled shyly and shrugged. They moved closer to each other. Harry relaxingly put his arms in Draco’s shoulders because the latter was taller. Draco put his hands on Harry’s waist. They tilted their heads and leaned closer.

 

For the beginning of February, it was quite warm—10 degrees Celsius (30 degrees Fahrenheit). It hadn’t snowed for days. However, this pleased Harry. He was attempting to take a cab to the local cinema. It was 5:30 PM and the fifth of the month. While he was excited to watch _Star Wars I_ , he was more so excited for his date with Draco. He felt like a giddy teenager: anticipating a movie date.

He arrived at the theater with ten minutes to spare. He worried about the tickets selling out, but found that Draco was already holding two tickets, a large popcorn, and two drinks in his hands.

“Awesome,” Harry said.

Draco handed him a drink and a ticket and asked, “Shall we?”

They sat in the theater room for the movie. [AN* Yes, I know that _Star Wars I_ was released in 1999, shhhh.] Halfway through the movie, Draco leaned over to Harry and said, “These effects are amazing.”

Harry replied, “Eh. It’s all computer graphics.”

“It’s terrifying how far technology has come.”

“Well, the wizarding world is still basically stuck in the 1800s.”

“I bet that Arthur Weasley would love this movie.”

“He’s gonna be proud of us for coming.”

“Yeah,” Draco said.

 

The movie ended and the two men walked out of the theater. Without thinking, Harry reached his hand down to meet Draco’s. Draco blushed and commented, “I think it’s weird that Anakin could just win a race without any practice.”

“Well, maybe that’s just the way the Force works. Luke held Darth Vader off in a lightsaber fight even though he wasn’t as well trained. Besides, sometimes that’s just what happens. Heroes get lucky.”

Draco smirked, “Ok, Mr. Bi Who Lived.”

The both snickered.

“So, I’ll see you later,” Harry half-asked, half-affirmed.

“Yeah.”

They kissed and went on their separate ways.


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter 17 TW/CW animals, birds, food, cats, ableist slurs

 

Harry had written Draco every day for nearly a month. They were definitely together, and Andromeda was definitely happy about it. She constantly asked about Draco and about their dates.

One thing that still made Harry nervous, though he wouldn’t dare admit it to Draco, was telling their loved ones. He knew that Narcissa didn’t know, and he was constantly resolving to tell Hermione and Ron about it. If he couldn’t even handle telling his best friends, who could he tell?

Nevertheless, in his last letter to Draco, he had agreed to hang out on Saturday, the fourth of March. If their relationship was going to grow, though, their friends would have to find out.

 

A solitary bird chirped. The snow had finally melted from the ground a fortnight before. Harry tossed and turned in his bed.

Finally, he groaned, “What the fuck? It’s not even spring yet. Shut the hell up, birds.”

His insomnia and nightmares had lessened since he started going to the PTSD meetings, but they still sprung up every now and then. He got out of bed. It was 9:34 AM. Harry had gotten almost six hours of sleep; he was up all night completing a sociology project, so he decided to skip Econ that morning.

The day droned on for about seven hours. At 4:30, Harry went to meet up with Draco. Their plan that day was to chill in London. The wanted to see the park and go shopping, but, most important, they wanted to see each other.

Harry met Draco at their gazebo. He mentally took in the other man’s blond hair, blue-ish grey eyes, pink lips…his skinny stature, elaborate clothing… Harry shook himself out of it.

“Hey,” he greeted Draco.

“Hello,” Draco said nervously.

“What’s up?”

“Every time I see you, I get butterflies,” Draco admitted with a nervous chuckle.

“Me too,” Harry replied, grinning.

“Wow, you must really like mirrors,” Draco joked.

Harry rolled his eyes and moved to kiss Draco. Their fingers linked, and they proceeded to the public transit.

Once in London, they automatically went to the park that they’d talked about. They sat on a bench, quietly enjoying each other’s presence.

“Hmm…a cardinal,” Draco observed after about ten minutes.

Harry watched the bright red bird, then asked, “Are they even natural around here?”

Draco shrugged. He commented, “Dunno. I know that they liked the American east coast.”

“How do you know that?”

“I’m just a bundle of fun facts,” Draco replied.

Harry giggled and scooted closer to Draco.

“Um, may I help you?” the blond teased.

“Yes,” Harry said, giggling again. He put his right hand under Draco’s chin and met his eyes.  Draco tangled his fingers in Harry’s hair. They moved closer to each other until they were breathing the same air. Harry felt hot Carbon dioxide meet cold oxygen and he closed his eyes. He felt Draco’s lips on his and deepened the kiss, occasionally sucking Draco’s bottom lip. They continued like that for a few minutes until they pulled away, breathless.

It was Draco’s turn to giggle. He then commented, “I wish that we had time to do that stuff when we were teenagers.”

“Yeah,” Harry agreed.

 

They walked around the city for nearly two hours, stopping inside game shops and thrift stores. There was nothing really worthy of purchasing, but that didn’t stop Harry from buying an old Trivial Pursuit game and half a deck of Pokémon cards. At 7:30, both men decided that it was time for dinner. They located the nearest McDonald’s and went there. After receiving their food, they sat at a table that was farthest away from the other customers.

Harry wasted no time in asking what was on his mind, “When do you think we should tell our friends and family?”

Draco took a sip of coffee, unsuccessfully disguising his reluctance to answer with dehydration. He commented, “I don’t know.”

“Do you _want_ to?” Harry asked.

Draco bit the inside of his cheek. He replied, “Not to be redundant, but I don’t know.”

“Why don’t you want to?”

Draco lifted his arms, palms up, in an unsure manner.

“C’mon, Draco. What are you scared of?” Harry pushed.

‘This is the first relationship that I’ve ever been in,” Draco said. “I’m not exactly sure how this is supposed to work.”

“This is, like, the third that I’ve ever been in. To be truthful, I’m just winging it.”

Draco cleared his throat, “Who do you want to tell first?”

“I dunno,” Harry replied. “Ron and ‘Mione. Maybe your mum…”

Draco nodded.

 

Nearly two weeks had passed. In that time, Draco had told Narcissa (successfully, from what Harry knew) and Harry had scheduled a double date with Hermione and Ron for the thirty-first of the month. It was now 7 PM, the seventeenth of March. As an attempt to make their relationship more serious, Draco invited Harry to his apartment. Harry now stood outside the door of Apartment Thirty-Three C, preparing to knock. He tapped the wooden door twice with his knuckles and was greeted by Draco.

“Hey, come on in,” the blond said.

What took Harry by surprise first was the size of the apartment. Unlike the vast area of the Malfoy Manor, this home was tiny. It could not have had more than three rooms: a living room/kitchen, a bedroom, and a bathroom/water closet. Next, Harry looked down to see two cats sniffing at his feet. They looked like opposites: one had thick, white fur and was missing an eye; the other had short, brown and orange fur, amber eyes, and only half a tail.

Draco scooped both of them up in his arms and carried them to another room. He came back and said, “Hope you’re not allergic to cats.”

“Oh, no,” Harry replied. He joked, “I just didn’t know you were a crazy cat lady.”

At that time, the fat white cat came running through the room at full speed. It knocked over a table. Harry jumped and it ran the other way.

“Oh, don’t let Cauliflower scare you. Sometimes she gets hyper,” Draco informed him.

“You named your cat…’Cauliflower’?” Harry asked in disbelief.

“No, I picked her up from the pound. She was already named. Besides, I wouldn’t name a cat ‘Halloween’ either,” Draco replied, pointing to the brown and orange cat.

“Oh,” Harry said, laughing internally. He asked, “So, what’s the agenda?”

“Um, a movie and dinner I can’t cook, so it’s dinosaur-shaped chicken nuggets, Ramen noodles, or delivery pizza.”

“Is that even a question?” Harry answered, “Dino nuggets.”

 

Draco and Harry cuddled their way through _E.T. The Extra-Terrestrial_. They sat on the tiny couch, silent. Once or twice, Cauliflower and Halloween would come up and smell Harry, as if judging him for their owner. They must have approved of him because, by the end of the movie, both cats were lying on top of his legs. When the credits rolled onto the screen, Harry moved to get them off of him.

Draco gasped, “You can’t do that!”

Both cats ran.

Harry replied, “What?”

“Cats have a _right_ to utilize humans. Learn your place, _Harry_ ,” Draco teased, moving his head closer to Harry’s with every word.

“What know what, Draco?”

“What?” Draco smirked.

Harry pushed himself on top of the blond and started tickling him. Five minutes later, the tears ran down both of the men’s faces from laughing so hard.

Harry spoke up, “Y’know, Andromeda is really proud of me for being so honest with my feelings.”

Draco shot him a quizzical look.

“With expressing myself and all,” Harry clarified.

Draco still looked confused.

Harry shrugged and put his head on Draco’s shoulder.

Draco confided, “It’s weird being poor.” He laced his fingers through Harry’s,

“How much were you guys fined?” Harry asked.

“They just kept raising it until we had nothing,” Draco replied.

“Oh,” Harry remarked.

They finished their chicken nuggets, then Harry asked, “Why did you adopt cats?”

“I don’t like dogs,” Draco stated.

“Why did you get pets?”

“I was lonely.”

“Why were you—“

Draco cut him off with a kiss. He joked, “Why are you so nosy?”

“Dunno,” Harry panted. He winked at Draco and they kissed again.

“Meow,” they heard.

Harry pulled away from the kiss, then looked to his left where Halloween was devouring a velociraptor. Draco and Harry burst into laughter.


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter 18 TW/CW death m, food, panic attacks m, mental illness m (possibly?), sex m

            Harry dusted off his black blazer. It was his only one and he wanted to look nice if he was going to the Red Lobster with Hermione, Ron, and Draco. It was a pretty fancy place, so Harry demanded that he pay the entire bill. Ron and Draco were outraged about that, but Harry was adamant.  He did, however, find it funny how similar the two could be.

            He gathered up his wallet, house keys, and cell phone. He went over to Teddy’s room before he left and told the toddler “good night.”

            As a matter of politeness, Harry went to pick Draco up. They walked to the Red Lobster to meet Hermione and Ron. The two couples greeted each other with hugs, and then were escorted to a table.

            Obviously, Hermione wasn’t happy to be seated right next to the lobster tank as she curled up her lip in disgust before sitting down. When the waiter left, the brunette announced, “I’m considering vegetarianism.”

            Ron sighed and rolled his eyes.

            “This is _cruel_ , Ron. They’re alive when you kill them!”

            The three men laughed.

            Hermione exasperated, “You know what I mean!” She then smiled and asked, “So how long have you two been dating?”

            “Uh…” Harry said.

            “Two months,” Draco interjected.

            “Oh!” Hermione exclaimed, her grin broadening.

            “So what are you two planning on doing career-wise?” Draco asked.

            Ron answered first, “I’ll be taking my final auror exam in a week, and they predict that I’ll start full-time work around May!”

            “Oh, that sounds nice. Why did you decide to be an auror?”

            Well, uh, I’ve always like…using detective-like spells…” Ron said, a bit red from the attention.

            “The practical   applications of defensive magic,” Hermione informed Draco.

            “And you?” Draco asked.

            “Well, I’m currently majoring in Chemistry in hopes of becoming an environmental consultant, but at the same time, I’m considering doubling up with neurology and going to Med school in the States so that I can become a neurosurgeon or something. It’s all just foggy right now.”

            Harry watched while Draco allowed Hermione to ramble about her academic goals. She finally ended up asking, “What do you want to do?”

            “I’m majoring in history. Right now I enjoy looking at the past socio-cultural factors contributing to contemporary political views and revolutionary movement.”

            “Oh, wow. Do you enjoy university?” Hermione asked. Harry could sense a sort of “…with all the muggles” at the end of the question. 

            “Yes, it’s quite lovely,” Draco answered. “Besides,” he looked at Harry. “I hear that there are some pretty great people at my uni.”

            The waiter then served their food, preventing Harry from blushing badly. Unfortunately, when the waiter left, Harry went to grab a roll and inevitably spilled his drink everywhere.

            Ron burst out in laughter and Hermione attempted to hide her smile. Luckily for Harry, Draco quickly shifted the subject.

            He stated, “Well, at least it wasn’t fizzing whizzbees.”

            Harry guffawed out of relief and of genuine amusement from the joke. Hermione and Ron shot them confused looks.

            Harry and Draco laughed harder. Between wheezing and laughing, they explained.

            “…at Diagon Alley…”

            “…this kid…he…”

            “…the fizzing whizzbees…”

            “…they all just spilled…”

            “…and…and he slipped…”

            …and his mum…”

            “…she…”

            They erupted into amused tears. Hermione and Ron looked even more confused. Draco and Harry finally calmed down, and Draco affirmed, “I guess you just had to be there.”

            Hermione turned her attention back to Harry. She asked, “What do you think of uni? How are your grades?”

            “I actually really like it,” Harry answered. “I’m getting high marks and I think that that’s really because of the study strategies I picked up. I know my mum would’ve been proud.”

            Draco’s smile slipped and he was now slightly frowning.

            “Yes, she would have,” Hermione affirmed.

            Ron spoke up, “Speaking of mums, I can’t get mine off my back. She’s always bugging me with this wedding crap.”

            Hermione rolled her eyes.

            “Does she know that you still have another decade?” Harry asked.

            “ _Yes_ , and I think _that’s_ what’s bothering her. She wants ‘Mione and me to get hitched now.”

            “Wait, didn’t she want Bill and Fleur to wait?” Harry questioned.

            “Yeah. I guess she just likes Hermione.” Ron put his arm around the brunette.

            The night continued, as did conversation between the couples; however, Draco remained oddly distant. After Harry paid the bill, everyone said their goodbyes. Harry and Draco got a cab. They were silent on the way to Draco’s apartment—even in the elevator.

            Finally, when they got to the door, the blond spoke up, “Hey, can I talk to you?”

            “Sure,” Harry replied, a bit surprised.

            They went inside and Draco shut the door. He then made clear eye contact with Harry. He was a bit hesitant and almost pained by what he wanted to say. Harry, on the other hand, had no clue what was on Draco’s mind.

            The blond inquired, “Why do you feel like you have to make everyone proud?”

            “What?!” Harry exclaimed. He could have alighted at the bizarre accusation.

            “You’re always talking about making people proud.”

            “No, I’m not,” Harry objected.

            “Yes, you are,” Draco defended himself, speaking in a sad and almost remorseful tone.  “At dinner, you said that your mother would be proud. After the movie, you said Arthur would be proud. When—“

            Harry interrupted him, “Woah, I was just joking.”

            “People don’t use the same self-deprecating humor over and over unless they actually feel that way.”

            “Draco…” Harry was at a loss for words.

            “I know that you think you have some…responsibility…”

            Harry laughed this time. “I _so_ don’t feel that way.”

            “You don’t have to pretend,” Draco exasperated.

            “I’m not!” Harry shrieked.

            Draco’s expression turned into one of deep chagrin.

            Harry continued, “Why does everyone think that there’s something wrong with me? I’m okay! Just because I can’t sleep and I have panic attacks all the time and I constantly feel like shit. That doesn’t mean anything!”

            Draco bit the inside of his cheek. Harry briefly thought that his boyfriend’s cheek must’ve been raw. Draco maintained, “Please, don’t yell. I just don’t want you to think that you owe _anyone_ anything. You don’t exist so that you can save the world or so that you can make everyone happy. Okay?”

            Harry nodded. “I’m sorry for yelling,” he said. “I didn’t realize that I was…concerned with making people proud.”

            Draco smiled somewhat. Harry moved in to hug him.

            “So…wanna stay over for a little bit?” Draco asked.

            Harry nodded again. Draco shooed Halloween off the couch and the two men sat down. Harry put his arm around Draco’s shoulder, and Draco scooted closer.

            “So…” Draco said in a flirty tone.

            Harry put his forehead against Draco’s.

            “Can I kiss you?” the dark-skinned man asked.

            “Only if I can kiss you back,” Draco replied.

            Harry placed his lips on Draco’s. He started to giggle.

            “Shh…” Draco teased.

            Harry shut his eyes and pressed into Draco. He let his mind become absorbed by the contact. He ran his tongue along Draco’s bottom lip and moaned when Draco bit his. Their bodies got closer and closer until Draco was practically on top of Harry’s lap. Draco removed Harry’s blazer and began to unbutton his shirt. Harry considered taking off Draco’s shirt, but hhad a déjà vu moment.

            He remembered this with Ginny. He remembered _wanting_ to, but also _not_ wanting to. He wanted this. So maybe he _was_ gay…or biromantic homosexual…or something. Harry froze. _No_ , he thought. _I_ don’t _want this_. Draco’s kisses grew slower. Harry pulled away.

            “Let’s just…let’s stop,” Harry panted.

            Draco frowned. He asked, “Did I do something wrong?”

            “No, no. It’s not you…it’s…me.” Harry grimaced at how cliché he sounded.

            “Do you want to…break up?”

            “No!” Harry objected. “No…I’m just…Draco, I’m asexual.”

            “Oh,” Draco responded.

            “It means that—“

            “I know.” The blond corrected himself, “I know what it means.” He smiled awkwardly.

            “Oh…”

            “Uh, I’m demisexual,” Draco confessed.

            “Oh, well, that’s…awesome…” Harry replied.

            They both laughed.

            “Merlin, we’re bad at this,” Draco stated.

            “Yeah…” Harry confirmed.


	19. Chapter 19

Chapter 19 TW/CW drugs/medication m, insomnia m, food, car wrecks m, death m, animals m, alligators m, scars m, aliens m

            Harry really had his week cut out for him. It was the nineteenth of April and he had exams to start studying for. On the twenty-second, he was due for his required internship (he was going to job-shadow for a teacher at an elementary school). Then, on the twenty-third, he and Draco would be babysitting Teddy.

            He signed up for the teaching opportunity because he remembered what Draco said; Harry did, in fact, love teaching. This internship was an experiment to see if he could actually be good at it. He hadn’t told anyone his plans because he was stills scared of being a failure. He remembered back in August when he chose to go to a muggle university because he was tired of being selfless. Had he possibly abandoned that point of view in the past eight months?

            Harry got out all of his notes for his exam preparations. He knew that he’d ace his French, bio, philosophy, and world history exams, so he really only needed to study geometry, econ, sociology, and art history. However, out of all of his courses, he couldn’t pick out one that he loved. Even if he was good at teaching, whom and what would he teach?

            He spent the next three days cramming information about Stock Markets, confirmation bias, triangles, and Picasso. He knew that, if he would teach, he wanted to be like Remus—not Snape nor Binns nor Trelawney. He wanted to encourage students, not bore them or scare them.

            The night of the twenty-first, Harry could hardly sleep. It was common knowledge that stress and nervousness could trigger insomnia. So he tossed an turned and meditated and took his sleeping meds and finally, at 2 AM, he fell asleep.

 

* * *

 

            Harry woke up to the high-pitched beeping of his alarm clock. It was 6 AM, and he was intending to leave in an hour. He got up, made his bed, got dressed, made coffee, and woke Teddy up. He poured some milk and cheerios into a bowl, cut up a banana, and began to feed his godson. When Teddy was done, Harry woke Andromeda and said his goodbyes.

            Because it was Spring, Harry enjoyed his walk to the school. The sun rose around 6:30, the air was warm, and flowers were blooming. Somehow, he knew that this would be a good day.

            He arrived at the school at a perfect time and was greeted by one of the secretaries.

            “Good morning, you must be Harry,” the man said.

            They shook hands, and the man showed Harry the schedule for the sixth year students. He would be assisting Ms. Claire’s reading and math classes, as well as overseeing recess. Then he would leave during lunch.

            Harry preferred this because these students were ten and eleven—slightly younger than first years at Hogwarts.

            The secretary escorted him to the designated classroom and introduced him to the teacher. She was an old lady with a sweet, mellow voice.

            “Hello, I’m so excited to have you with us today,” she said, shaking his hand. “I’m just going to walk you through some of the protocol.”

            Ms. Claire went over the fire drills, snack rules, behavior charts, and teacher code of conduct. She then showed Harry the teaching agenda: _Mummies in the Morning_ by Mary Pope Osborne and the squares of the numbers one through twelve.

            Harry took a deep breath. He could do this.

            The first students started pouring in and Harry remained silent. If they wanted to notice him, they would. Some of the children put their bags away in their cubbies; some ran to greet Ms. Claire. It was a matter of seconds before the first kid saw Harry. Their eyes lit up, and Harry briefly worried that this kid recognized him from the wizarding world.

            However, his fears washed away when the kid squealed, “We have a visitor!”

            The other children ran to acknowledge Harry, asking for his name, age, and normal job. Ms. Claire smiled as they asked if he had a wife or kids or, more importantly, any pets. She politely told them to carry on like normal because Harry would introduce himself when everyone arrived. 

            Within fifteen minutes, twenty students were sitting patiently. None of them took their eyes off Harry. Finally, Ms. Claire announced, “Okay, class. This is Mr. Potter. He’s going to help me out from now until lunch.”                 

            Harry didn’t know how to start out, so he decided to let the kids ask questions for ten to fifteen minutes. He picked a small Indian boy first.

            “My name’s Davie. I wanna now how old you are.”

            “Hi, Davie,” Harry said. “I am nineteen years old, and I’ll turn twenty on the thirty-first of July.”

            “What year were you born?” a blonde girl asked.

            “1980,” Harry replied.

            “Woah,” the blonde mouthed.

            “Where were you born?” a brunette asked.

            “Hands, kids,” Ms. Claire interrupted.

            Harry knew that he couldn’t say “Godric’s Hollow,” so he said, “Privet Drive.”

            Harry pointed to a girl with long, black hair. She inquired, “Weren’t you born in a hospital?”

            “I don’t know,” Harry admitted.

            “Why don’t you know?” a tall boy burst out.

            “My parents died when I was a baby,” Harry said. “They never really kept records of that stuff.”

            Harry called on a chubby, red-haired girl. She whispered, “I’m Madi. How did they died, Mr. Potter?”

            “Well, Madi…in a car crash.”

            “Is that how you got that scar?” another boy boomed.

            “Uh…not quite. See,” Harry put on his best fake-story voice, “they crashed into a swamp. Then an alligator ate them. And then he pulled out a knife and carved it into my forehead.”

            A few kids giggled, obviously knowing that he was joking.

            Harry smiled. He corrected, “Nah. I wasn’t in the wreck. This scar is an…er—a birth mark.”   

            “It’s shaped like lightning!” Davie squeaked.

            “Yup,” Harry confirmed.

            The next few minutes went on and Harry told them all about his hobbies (well, reading and cooking) and Teddy and Andromeda.    

            Ms. Claire commented that it was time for reading and she passed out the books.

            The kids were instructed to read silently, but were allowed to ask questions about word meanings or pronunciations. Harry soon discovered that the children didn’t raise their hands for him to help them, but rather for him to give them attention.

            He gladly visited every child, pointing out a hidden plot in the book or a special fact about the magic. As he walked through the room, he grew nostalgic for the days of Dumbledore’s Army. He enjoyed helping people learn and understand. Before Harry knew it, it was time to pass out goldfish and multiplication charts.

            Ms. Claire wrote 32 on the board and gave Harry a dry-erase marker. It was his turn to teach. He was surprised that his nervousness was pout of excitement and not dread.

            “All right, everyone,” Harry announced. “What we’re going to be working on is ‘squares.’ Who knows what a square is?”

            A girl with wavy, brown hair shot her hand up. Harry was immediately reminded of Hermione.

            “Yes?” he asked.

            “A shape with four sides that are equal.”

            “Um, close,” Harry commented. “How do you get the _area_ of a square?”

            “You multiply two sides,” the same girl declared.

            “That’s what you do when you ‘square’ a number. You multiply it by itself. What’s your name, sweetie?”

            “Amanda,” she beamed.

            “Good job, Amanda.” Harry continued, “So what is three squared?”

            The kids counted on their fingers, eager for Harry’s approval.

            Finally, a boy with short, dark brown hair affirmed, “Nine.”

            “And how do you know that…?”

            “I’m Cody. I timed three times three.”

            “And what’s that? In terms of addition, I mean.”

            “Three plus three plus three.”

            “Awesome. All right, you all, try 52, 62, 72, 82, and 22.”

            He watched as the children worked. Ms. Claire walked beside him and whispered, “I think they like you.”

            Harry asked, “How do you know?”

            The old woman answered, “They’re never this quiet.”

 

            Recess took place on the playground behind the school. Decked out with slides, monkey bars, swings, a teeter-totter, and a track, the entity kept the kids content.

            Harry stood watch by the swings, ensuring that no kid swung too high. He was about five minutes into the lookout when Davie walked towards him. The young boy was frowning and was clearly in distress.

            Harry crouched down so that he could be at eye-level. He asked, “What’s up, little man?”

            “Mr. Potter, I got a question.”

            “Well, ask away.”

            “Do you believe in aliens?”

            Harry wanted to laugh, but he knew that the boy was sincere. “Well, Davie,” he said. “Our galaxy, the Milky Way, is about one quintillion kilometers. All of London is only one thousand and five hundred kilometers. I think that it would be _silly_ to assume that there is nothing else out there.”

            “Do you believe in ghosts?”

            Harry smiled. “Yes.”

            “Unicorns?”

            “Yes.”

            “Mermaids?”

            “Merpeople? Yes.”

            “Magic?”

            “Yes.”

            “Cool.” Davie smiled and ran back to the swings.

* * *

 

 

            Harry watched as his boyfriend played patty-cake with Teddy. Draco was not as strict with making the toddler bilingual, so he’d spoken in English the entire night. Harry supposed that it was good that Draco only moderately followed the Black family’s values.

            “You know what I think is funny?” Harry mused.

            “What?”

            Harry remarked, “The fact that you _pretend_ to hate kids, but actually love them.”

            Draco rolled his eyes.

            Harry commented, “You’re good with them, too.”

            “Draco!” Teddy commanded, “Up!”

            “Piggy-back ride?” the blond asked.

            “ _Oui!_ [Yes!]”

            Draco put the toddler on his back and bounced around the room. He asked Harry, “Did you like the internship?”

            “I loved it,” Harry revealed.

            “Really?”

            “Yeah…it reminded me of the D.A.”

            “Well, then, I take it that you know what you’re gonna do.”

            “What?”

            “Teach!"


	20. Chapter 20

Chapter 20 TW/CW therapy, prison m, war m, death m, ghosts m

The session had adjourned about ten minutes beforehand, at 6:30 PM, but Harry had still stuck around. It was Draco's first time at Crowing Corner's Counselling Center and Harry wanted to make it nice. They stayed after with Luna for the purpose of socializing. It wasn't as if she was the only Hogwarts alumni at the PTSD meetings, but she _was_ the only one that Harry was close to.

"Did you enjoy yourself, Draco?" Luna asked.

"I wouldn't call it 'enjoying myself,' but yeas," Draco replied politely.

Harry knew that his boyfriend as still uncomfortable around Luna because she had been a prisoner in the Malfoy Manor, so he tried to manipulate their conversations into small talk. It wasn't the best thing, but Draco would do the same for him.

"So what have you been up to, Luna?" Harry questioned.

"Oh, well I've been looking for wrackspurts and also trying to learn a bit about Quidditch. Ginny's playing for the Harpies, you know."

"I'm really happy for her. I reckon her skills have won then most of the matches."

"Perhaps…" she said, smiling.

"What position is she" Draco asked.

"She's a beater," Luna informed him.

"Wasn't she chaser for the Gryffindors?" Draco speculated, looking slightly confused.

Harry interjected, "And seeker. She's pretty much good at everything because of the competitions with her brothers."

Draco shrugged.

Harry could tell that they were getting on serious ground again. Draco didn't like to focus on the bullying during Hogwarts, especially not towards the Weasleys, especially because Fred di—Harry didn't allow himself to finish the thought. Then he got angry at himself. Why did he have to go forward in one thing, like sleeping, and then backward in another?

"Are you all right, Harry?" Luna inquired.

"Um, yeah. Just thinking…"

"Be careful. Too much of that could hurt you."

Harry sighed. Luna reminded him too much of his therapist.

"Are you continuing your magical education, Luna?" Draco mused.

"Oh, I don't know," she admitted. "Daddy wants me to start writing for the Quibbler…"

Draco nodded. "You'd be good at that."

"Thank you." Luna smiled. "How about you?"

"I think that I'll just stick to muggle education."

"Really? You were always great at magic in school."

"Well…" Draco mumbled.

"Do you like muggle uni, Harry?" Luna asked.

"I do, but I like magic more," he admitted.

"Oh, do you miss Hogwarts?"

"Yeah…but it doesn't matter." Upon viewing the two blondes' confused faces, Harry added, "I think that I want to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts…at Hogwarts."

"Harry, that's wonderful!" Luna exclaimed.

"Really?!" Draco asked. He sounded excited.

"If Headmistress McGonagall will hire me," Harry revealed.

"I bet she will," Luna reassured him.

For the first time, Harry felt like he had it all worked out.

* * *

 

Harry sent an owl to McGonagall, and they had scheduled a meeting for the seventeenth of May. He had fifteen days to go before his life changed—again.

He was currently at the Hogwarts Memorial Graveyard, along with almost every other person that had survived the war. Draco claimed that he had to work, but Harry knew that he was really just scared of seeing ghosts. And he was okay with that: one didn't need to be brave all the time.

He was sat beside Neville, Seamus, and Dean, contemplating the afterlife. Suddenly, all of Professor Wilkins's lessons about "existential angst" made sense. He wondered if anyone would ever write a book about his own angst. If his life at Hogwarts would entertain some… Harry decided that he didn't care.

The silent mourning was over and some people began to chat. Harry overheard Neville tell Seamus and Dean, "Yeah, McGonagall reckons that we'll need two professors for each subject, like Firenze and Trelawney did for Divination, because there are going to be so many first years. I guess people had tons of babies in '89."

Seamus and Dean burst out in laughter.

Harry asked, "Is she going to announce the post-poning of sorting?"

"Yeah, she'll do it in July and then by letter in August," Neville confirmed.

"How have you guys been?" Harry addressed Seamus and Dean.

"Well, I've been rather all right. Currently I'm a trainee healer for the Appleby Arrows. They reckon I'll be ready to work full-time by September," Dean said.

"I'm doing great, too, mate. Thanks for asking. Right now I'm working for the local owl post, but I've talked to George about helping out with the shop," Seamus added.

"That's awesome," Harry said. And it was. He was glad that everyone had begun to heal.

"How about you, Harry?" Neville asked.

Harry shrugged. "I've got a meeting with the headmistress to discuss my becoming a Defense Against the Dark Arts professor."

Their jaws dropped.

"You'd be great at that, Harry!" Seamus remarked.

"We'd be working together," Neville stated.

Harry smiled again. "I think that this is what I need to be doing."

"You were a really good teacher in the DA," Dean said.

"Did you not like university?" Neville asked.

"No, I did," Harry answered. "but I think that teaching will make me happier."


	21. Chapter 21

Ch 21 TW/CW therapists m, food m, war m

Harry waited outside the door of Headmistress McGonagall's office. It wasn't the first time that Harry had been here since Dumbledore's death, but it still felt as solemn and strange. He swallowed back his peculiar nervousness. He wasn't sure why this meeting filled him with such fear; he was definitely going to get the job. Was it possible that it was dread from Voldemort's curse on the DADA teaching position? No. Perhaps it was just the switch in his life. Harry's therapist said that change could cause panic. Then again, she'd also said that surroundings didn't change: people did. Harry decided that Ginny was right about that being a total load of bull—

"Good evening, Harry. Please, come in," Headmistress McGonagall greeted him, interrupting his thoughts.

"Hello, headmistress," he replied, stepping into her office. "How have you been?"

"As well as possible, considering the past events."

"I see," Harry stated. He felt awkward. This seemed too professional to really be a meeting between him and McGonagall. He smiled at her, trying to break the bizarreness in the atmosphere.

"And you, Potter?" she smiled back.

"Better," he responded. They locked eyes, and Harry moved in to hug her. He laughed. "Merlin, I was worried that this would be too strict."

"Teaching is serious business, Mr. Potter," McGonagall joked.

"Did you get your Christmas present?"

"I did. It was lovely; I enjoyed it. The pens came in handy."

Harry grinned. "Well, I expected as much."

"So, let's discuss why you're here, Mr. Potter."

"Sure."

"Sit. Have a biscuit," she commanded.

Harry did both.

"Normally, we would require several NEWTs in order to teach this subject, but I think that you have proved yourself quite worthy."

"I don't want special treatment," Harry announced.

"This isn't special treatment. You led a group named 'Dumbledore's Army,' you defended Hogwarts, you defeated Voldemort."

"I had help!"

"Yes, and that is why I think that this roll is perfect for you. We need someone talented and intelligent, yes, but also humble and gentle."

"I don't think that—"

"Harry, you scheduled this appointment!" McGonagall exasperated. "Are you trying to convince me that you don't want it?"

"Well, no."

"Then stop doubting yourself."

The room grew silent for a few moments.

Harry asked, "How many students are attending?"

"Our seventh year has 52 students. Sixth year—61. Fifth—85. Fourth—92. Third—105. Second—95. The first year has about 156 combined. There are so many more muggleborn students."

Harry smiled. "So, we've grown."

"Potter, you haven't gotten a clue. Your first year had about 40 students, but, by your sixth year, that number decreased to 25."

"That's ridiculous!"

"Why do you think that it was so easy to have one teacher for each subject? Hogwarts has grown more than I, Dumbledore, or any of the Founders could have predicted."

"How many new dorms were built?"

"We have it mapped out by House, gender, and year. We have eighteen boys' dorms, eighteen girls' dorms, and ten gender-neutral dorms for our first years. Per house, we have twenty girls' dorms, twenty boys' dorms, and seventeen gender-neutral dorms. Hogwarts is prepared for 1,100 students in all."

"How many are enrolled now?"

"646."

"Wow," Harry said, amazed.

"There were a little less than 300 when you were here in your first year."

"Why has it grown so much?"

"People are no longer under the threat of war. Or rather, they weren't between the years 1983 and 1990."

"How big is the staff?"

"We've expanded by adding more muggle-based subjects; math, reading, biology; and doubling or tripling our teachers for magical education. We have three charms teachers, three transfiguration teachers, two arithmancy teachers, two divination teachers, and two DADA teachers…assuming our second accepts the position."

"Yeah…" Harry glanced up at the headmistress. She was smiling nervously. "What? Oh! Yeah. Yes. I accept." Harry smiled back.

McGonagall shook his hand. "It's good to have you on the crew, Mr. Potter."

"If you don't mind me asking, who is my co-teacher?"

"Charlie Weasley, of course! Haven't you been told? He has a way with dragons."

* * *

Harry was ready to call it a day. He was sat on Draco's couch, watching a Back to the Future marathon. His boyfriend had been beyond happy for him, and it appeared that Cauliflower and Halloween were happy for him too. They had been snuggled up to him ever since he arrived at the small apartment. Or maybe they were happy about the feline-like smell that McGonagall had left on him…

"Do you think that 2015 is really going to look like this?" Draco asked Harry.

"I doubt it. Although, I did hear that there was this 3D printer being introduced to hospitals…I'll show you an article about it. It's like magic." Harry winked at the blond.

Draco rolled his eyes. He asked, "How do you feel about Hogwarts?"

"Oh, I dunno. They don't have a 3D printer, but there _might_ be magic there. Just maybe," Harry joked.

Draco snorted and kissed Harry's cheek. "No, seriously."

"I'm pretty excited," Harry replied.

"When do you start?"

"I get to set up my classroom and all that jazz in mid-July, then I go full-time along with the students. I never thought that I'd see the Hogwarts train again…"

"I'm happy for you."

"Thank you. I'm just…flabbergasted."

"What?" Draco asked. His right eyebrow was raised in a skeptical fashion.

"Flabbergasted," Harry repeated.

"Did you just make that up?"

"No! It's a real word."

"I don't believe you."

"It means speechless!"

"Hmm…" Draco replied. Harry laughed, and Draco giggled, stating, "I love you."

Harry continued laughing, and he placed his forehead against Draco's. He responded, "I love you too."

Draco untensed, as if he was afraid he'd made a mistake in his confession. The men locked eyes, and Harry knew that his life might not suck so much in the future as it had in the past.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will be making a sequel of this story! I hope for it to be longer and much more elaborate. (school, money tw): I don't know when I can start writing it or when I can start publishing it because I still have a lot of work to do for college (financial aid, etc) and graduation, but I intend to start ASAP. Thank you all for being so wonderful and sticking by this story!


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